The Addict's Curse
by ggmaxwell
Summary: John awakes from the dead and finds his children. He must learn to bite his tongue and be supportive of his oldest who is detoxing from alcohol, or at least that's what Sam has told him. But Dean starts trading one addiction for another, finding that the Angel Castiel is his new fix. Destiel, detoxing, drama. Tread with caution.
1. Chapter 1 Awakening

Summary: As anyone who knows an addict knows, they never really stop being an addict. They just change their obsessions and take it up to ten. For Dean, that will be a problem. It's bad enough his brother and friend are cutting him off from the mark, cold turkey, and have imprisoned him into the bunker. He is finding it harder keeping his feelings hidden from his best friend and anyone else. He is slowly learning that when you take away one drug, you replace it with another. But the added stress is made even worse when his father turns up at their door.

Warning: This fiction will have displays of graphic M/M sex, as well as other symptoms of detoxing, and drama. If you feel you will be triggered by anything I urge you not to read. If you have a problem with Destiel, I urge you not to read.

I came up with this fic on the fly, mostly as a way to challenge myself in writing other forms of fiction. If you like it, great, but I am open to any comments and criticism, after all I am here to learn.

This fic is taking place in a slightly AU. I incorporate in the mark, but this is my idea of how Dean could get rid or be cured of it.

Now, on with the show.(cough)erm...Story.

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><p>Chapter 1: Awakening<p>

He awoke with an excruciating headache. The air hot and thick around him, making it hard for him to breath. He opened his eyes, hoping to get a better understanding of his surroundings.

What he saw was not inspiring.

It was dark, impenetrably dark. He was inclined to believe it was night, but the air around him was too thick, even for the height of summer.

Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out his lighter and flicked it on. His hope dying with the first spark. He saw that he was in a wooden box, barely bigger then himself. It was sealed up tight enough that the dirt, or at least he thought that was what was outside, could not get in. He extinguished the flame so as not to use up more air, he started to work.

He took his buckle off his belt and held it between his teeth, as he pushed up the edges of the box, he recognized as a coffin. Once he had opened the lid enough, he used one hand to hold it there, and the other to take his belt buckle and place it between the two pieces of wood. A difficult task, considering the confined space.

He then pulled his shirt over his head, removing his arms for free use, before tying the bottom of it over his head. Feeling that his work was satisfactory, and the dirt would not be able to get inside his shirt and suffocate him. He started to push on the lid of the casket even harder.

Once the top had opened enough, he began to take handfuls of soil and shovel them into the casket. With each handful, the lid opened more and more. He couldn't tell how far he was getting, not really being able to see. But he knew what direction he had to go. He continued to dig up, pushing the dirt under him as he shoveled.

He continued up, feeling the dirt get thinner and looser as he dug. He was getting close. He just had to keep going.

Finally, his hand broke the surface and he could feel the warmth. He continued to pull himself up until he felt a hand grab hold of his and pulled. He felt the dirt around him shifting as well. Someone was helping him out.

As his head and shoulder broke free of the ground, he took long, deep, lungfuls of warm, humid air. He kept his breathing measured as he continued to climb out of the ground, pausing a minute or two to drink the air in greedily. As his legs and feet came free, he took a moment to lay down on the warm, dew touched grass, breathing deeply.

Opening his eyes, he had to close them again almost immediately. The light from the sun glaring into his eyes, almost blinding him. It was painful, but that let him know he was alive. Last he remembered, he was dead or dying. Those memories where drifting away from him already, like a dream after waking up.

He felt a cool, plastic bottle being pressed into his hands. He took it, unscrewed the cap, and drank from it greedily. The water soothing his sore throat and giving him an added boost of energy. He opened his eyes again, and squinted to give them a moment to adjust.

Looking around him, he could see that he was in a cemetery. Surrounded by headstones and placards. The sun high in the sky, pouring light down on the trees. Green leaves, swaying in the wind.

He looked over to his helper, who's eyes where scanning him for any sign of injury or illness. He was a short man, and thin with brown hair and eyes. His beard scruffy and unkempt, saying that the man was not really concerned about appearance. His hands where jittery, his movements sporadic. A sign of alcoholism.

"John Winchester?" The helper asked him, his voice high-pitched and nervous.

He swallowed another mouthful of water before answering.

"How do you know my name?" He asked, staring hard at the smaller man.

"Because I know you." The stranger said, then seeing that John was getting ready to go on the defensive, he continued. "It's okay, I'm kind of a psychic. I saw you coming out of the grave, so I came to help. My names Chuck Shirley. I know your sons, Sam and Dean."

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><p>Okay, I figure I should get this out of the way now.<p>

Disclaimer: I in no way shape or form, own Supernatural. I am merely letting my mind wonder to what-if scenarios and writing them down. The characters and series plot belong to the wonderful Eric Kripke. I am making no money off of this story, nor do I intend to. Please do not sue me.

Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Chapter 2: Into The Misty Mountains

Chapter 2: Into the Misty Mountains

To say John was surprised was an understatement. Confusion did not begin to describe how off-balance he was, and starving was not adequate to his situation. He was down right ravenous, dumbfounded, and astonished. Not to mention a bit suspicious.

The guy who had helped him out of his grave, placed he noticed, right in front of Mary's memorial along with his dog-tags, was a bit jumpy and un-forthcoming with information. All he'd told him was that his name was Chuck, he knew Dean and Sam, he was a psychic, and he was taking him to Lebanon. After that, he was on his own. Saying that it would not do him any good to come into face to face contact with his boys, something about them thinking he was dead and would like to keep it that way.

But for a guy who did not seem to say anything, he could sure talk a lot. For what seemed like hours, he bombarded John with inane chatter and random sentences. He did not tell John much about what Sam and Dean had been up to over the past few years. YEARS! That had caught John off guard, but he did tell him that they had found a permanent residence and they where in fact, still alive. Still together, which was good. He could see, even when they where younger, that they where stronger when they were together.

The old Station Wagon that he was riding in smelled like it had not been washed in a few years. With the distinct smell of alcohol and vomit mixed in the back, barely covered by the ocean breeze air freshener that Chuck had hung from the mirror.

Eventually, mercifully, Chuck pulled up to a fast-food joint in Lebanon, handed him a hundred dollar bill, gave him instructions to where they lived, and wished him luck.

John thanked him and removed himself from the vehicle.

The first thing he did was to go into the restaurant and order something to eat and two bottled waters. Odds are he was going to be doing a bit of hiking. The instructions that Chuck had given him would lead him out of town and into the forest. Eating quickly enough to not draw attention to himself, but still giving himself the time to savor the taste of food, he finished and headed outside.

As he walked, he attempted to get his thoughts in order. He did not remember much. He made the deal with the damned Demon he'd been chasing for over twenty years to save Dean from a horrible death, that if he thought about it, was his fault. He should have listened to Dean and not gone to those Demons himself.

He'd talked with Dean, told him what he needed to know before John had passed on. He had given the Demon the Colt, then went back to his room. He did not remember anymore after that. He was sure he had gone to Hell, but he could not remember any of it. You would think one would remember that, but nothing.

Did his boys find a way to bring him back? No, that's not possible, they're to smart to mess with things like that. So how did he come back?

Demon? No, Demons would gain nothing from bringing him back. Did they think they could force him into something, using his resurrection as a form of blackmail? That didn't make sense, any Demon worth his salt or lack thereof would know they couldn't bully him into anything using that.

So, what then? John couldn't think of anything else that would have the power to get him out of Hell. He was, however, unable to continue on with his thoughts, because he heard a car horn and a pick-up pulled over in front of him.

"Hey, buddy?" Said the driver. Poking his head out the window, reminding John, creepily of Bobby Singer with the way he spoke and dressed. "Need a ride?"

"Only if your headed my way." John answered, frustrated at the fact that whatever had brought him back, hadn't seen any reason to give him a weapon. "Up in the mountains."

"Headed in that direction myself." The man answered. "Where abouts in the mountains?"

"Near, the power plant." John answered.

"Yeah, I pass the power plant on my way home. Climb on in." The man offered.

Deciding it would be better for him to hitch a ride, then wear himself out looking for the damn place, he loaded himself into the truck.

"Your not from around here, are you?" The man asked, after introducing himself as Garry.

"You could say that." John answered, keeping one eye on the road, and one eye on the man driving.

"So, what brings you around here?" Garry asked, seemingly trying to keep polite conversation.

"Visiting my kids." John answered simply.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" Garry prompted, turning back to the road.

"Not really." John agreed, then added. "I guess you could say I'm a bit out of my element, and getting over quite a shock."

"I get that." The man conceded, turning on the radio to some country station. John finding himself remembering how Dean would always complain when he would change the station to country. That gave him a small smile, before he found himself wondering if Dean would still be like that.

The drive was not long, but John was ready to go when the man pulled over in front of the power plant. He bid the guy farewell and thanked him, getting out of the truck. He then started walking into the woods. He knew it couldn't be to far.

He stayed off the road, and out of sight, but he made sure to follow it like Chuck said. Finally, he came up to the side of a huge warehouse. This couldn't possibly be the place, could it. The address was the one Chuck had given him, so it must be. He circled around the compound, taking in the outward details and looking for the front door.

Finding the huge metal monstrosity that was in the place of a door, he felt it to find it was made out of pure iron. He then knocked three times. He waited just a few moments, but it felt like an hour. Finally, the door cracked open and he saw a familiar brown eye poking from the small sliver between the door and the wall. To be honest, he expected the gun that was pressed up to his head, and the sound of it being cocked behind him.

"This better be good." He heard his oldest say to his right.

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><p>Chapter 2 down. I have plans on posting another chapter in just a couple of minutes. I figure no one will really read this until tomorrow. I just want to get to Dean, Sam, and Cas stuff quickly.<p>

Though I promise, the rest of the chapters will be longer, this is just set up.


	3. Chapter 3: Intervention

Chapter 3:

xxx24 hours earlierxxx

Dean had pulled into the garage of the bunker. It had been a boring day.

Eventually, he had gone out to the store just to pick up a couple of supplies. Only to discover that errands did nothing to obliterate the boredom. He needed a hunt, something to kill. He could feel the mark on his arm burning into his skin. Demanding a kill, or a mutilation of some sort, something to give him that adrenaline rush that made the mark less painful.

Getting out of the car and walking into the main bunker, he headed in the direction of the library. Determined to barrow Sam's laptop, and use it to find a case. He was not, however, expecting Sam to be waiting for him, and especially not Castiel, who was standing beside him with a grim expression.

"Dean, this is an intervention." Sam started. Pulling a couple of note cards out of his pocket.

"I'm sorry, what?" Dean asked, smiling as he looked between him and Castiel, expecting one of them to suddenly yell out 'Psych' or 'Gotcha'. But the two of them continued to stare at him. Their faces solemn, without a hint of humor.

"Dean, the mark is changing you." Sam started, looking down at his cards, ignoring Dean's outburst, accusing him of kidding. "It's making you into something your not. I can not stand by and watch as my older brother, and hero becomes the very thing he hates. You are my brother, and I love you, so I will do whatever it takes to make you happy. This..." Sam said, gesturing to Dean's arm. "This is not making you happy. It's turning you into a monster, and the blood lust is not you. I know that at your core you are still human, and the merciless killings will eventually eat you from the inside." Sam paused, letting out a sigh. "And I will not let that happen to you."

"Right, well this is all very moving, but..." Dean started.

"Dean, Sam is right." Castiel started, pulling his own cards out of his pocket.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Dean started, as Castiel continued to read.

"The blood lust, anger, and violent outburst are not the Dean who taught me the value of free will. You are my best friend, and now it is the time I repay you. You have taught me that your actions are more important then your words in most situations. As well as the love and loyalty you have for your family. To help them, sometimes you have to do something that may hurt them, or anger them. You are my family, Dean. But I feel what I have done, will help you in the long run." Castiel read.

"Say what?" Dean asked, panic starting to rise.

"I have taken the First Blade and hidden it." Castiel admitted.

"You what?" Dean yelled, approaching Castiel menacingly.

"I have taken the very thing that makes you kill, and hidden it." Castiel answered blankly.

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. Castiel had taken the First Blade_, the First Blade_, and hidden it from him. He could feel the mark throbbing at the distance between it and the blade. What did they think he was supposed to do? You can't fucking reverse the damn thing.

"What?.." Dean asked. "You think this is like a drug or a regular addiction like booze or crack? You can't just detox from this." Dean yelled.

"Well, we need to take a shot." Sam stated, keeping his voice calm as apposed to Dean's anger. "I didn't think I could detox from Demon blood, but we tried, and...Okay, well the first time didn't work. But the second time it did. So we need to see if this could work."

"It's not gonna work Sam." Dean yelled, hitting a pile of books off the table before pacing the floor. "Your just gonna risk my sanity, or possible life, just because your convince this is something that could be fixed so easily? Like I'm just a fucking junkie?"

"Dean, I know this is hard to except." Castiel started. "But your going to feel better when it's all over." He calmed, walking up to Dean, both hands in the air, as a gesture of peace.

Having no response that they would listen to, Dean walked out. Feeling like a disgruntled teenager, he went to his room and turned his stereo on. He put on his headphones and laid down on his bed. He would find the blade, that was no big deal, it's probably somewhere in the bunker.

Coming to that conclusion, he lifted himself up out of bed, and walked to his door. He made a point of checking the hall for any noise before stepping out of his room.

He walked down the hallway, making sure to avoid any of the main areas of the bunker, and went to the storage rooms. He'd yet to go through them, but he wouldn't put it past Cas to think that was a good place to hide the blade.

He entered the first room he came across, looking for any kind a feeling from the mark. Hoping it would give him some indication that the blade was close. Feeling nothing, he walked deeper into the room, and started going through the boxes stacked up against the walls.

He opened the first box he came across and raffled through it's contents. Finding nothing, he went on to the second box, and another, and another. Box after box, he would come up with some pretty weird shit, but nothing resembling the first blade. Slamming his hand on the last box, he walked out of the room.

"It's okay." Dean told himself, calming down. "It's okay. Cas is a smart guy. He would know better then to hide it in the first storage room." Dean said to nobody in particular.

Walking to the next one, he started looking again. He opened the boxes, searching them to the very bottom. He opened the drawers in the desk that they kept in there. He lifted the big things, and searched under the bigger things. Looking anywhere that might have a crevice. Somewhere to hide the blade in. Still coming up with nothing, he picked himself up and turned to exit the room, coming face to face with the very being that made him go on this wild goose chase.

"Hello Dean." Castiel greeted him with a look of disapproval.

"Damn it, Cas. Warn a guy next time." Dean exclaimed, taking a step back.

"My apologies." Castiel admitted, taking a step back himself. "But do you really think I would be so stupid as to hide the very item you need to be staying away from in the place you live." He asked, sending Dean a questioning glare.

Man, Dean hated that look. A look of disapproval and anger. As if all his trust in Dean was waning. Which just made Dean angrier. Who was he to look at him like that. It's not like he hadn't made mistakes himself. He had no right to look at him like that, with the eyes of judgement.

"Kinda hoped so." Dean said, giving Cas a shit eating grin. Boy did he want to rile someone up, and his Angel was the perfect target. He would love to see that righteous son-of-a-bitch loose his temper. Demonstrate some of that anger that he knows is hidden in there. Only seen glimpses of. "After all, you've made a few stupid moves in your lifetime. Thought maybe this would be one of them." He said, watching Castiel take in a slow, measured breath.

"Not this time, I'm afraid." Castiel answered. "You are not going to find the First Blade in the bunker Dean. I may have made mistakes in the past, but I'm not going to let that happen with you."

"What, you think I'm some sort of baby who can't handle myself?" Dean argued, sending a glare at Castiel.

"Dean, Abbadon is dead. There is no more need for the Blade." Castiel answered back, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture, and boy, did that piss Dean off. He did not need to be treated like a child, or like he was made of glass.

"I'M NOT A CHILD CAS?" Dean yelled, closing in on the Angel with rage in his eyes. Every fiber of his being telling him, to rip the guy apart. The human side telling him that it was a horrible thing to think. Cas was his best friend, and he was just trying to help him, in his own way. That Cas cared enough to stick around and help him was enough to make his anger defuse, almost.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself and making my own damn decisions. I'm sick of everybody telling me what's best for me, when they can't even handle their own lives." Dean ranted, pacing in front of his friend, before rounding on him. "You especially. You never take advice from anyone. Or come to anyone. You always disappear, and do these things that could kill people and yourself. Never going to anyone for help, and nobody can make you stop. So why the fuck should I listen to you?" He finished, ignoring every time he had told Cas about personal space, as he walked right up to him, inches from his face.

God damn, that stupid calm face of his. Dean just wanted to grab him and shake that look off his face. He wanted to see something other then calm in those blue eyes. Something he'd never seen in those eyes before, fear maybe, or panic. Maybe something else, anything but that fucking patience and calmness that he has come to associate the Angel with. But before he could do anything, Castiel spoke.

"Your right." Castiel said, to Dean's surprise. "I have no right to tell you what to do, or make decisions for you." He admitted, licking his lips. "But I know, that this..." Castiel stated, grabbing Dean's arm in vice like grip that Dean, no matter how supped up he is, could not break. "This, is not you. This is the Mark of Cain talking, and if you want to continue this after that Mark has left you, then I will let you. But until the Mark is gone, I know it's not you, and your going to turn yourself into the very thing you hunt. I know you don't want that." He finished, never breaking his eye contact with Dean. Clear blue eyes staring at him with determination, and damn it, if Dean didn't think that was one of the most attractive things ever.

It was then, other thoughts came to his head. Thoughts that had only ever visited him in his dreams, since the first time he'd met the stubborn ass. Thoughts of him, under him, squirming, screaming, and moaning his name, looking completely debauched. Just take that innocent, virginal Angel apart, in a whole new way. A way that was sinful in it's very nature, and bring that smug ass down a peg, to his level.

"What makes you think that you know what I want?" Dean snapped, staring down at Castiel. Taking a good look at his face, trying to see anything in those eyes that told him that Cas was thinking the same things he was. But the only thing he saw was concern, and determination, and an unyielding stubbornness that he'd only ever found in himself.

"Because I know you." Castiel snapped back, refusing to move even an inch. "I put you back together when I raised you from Hell, Dean. Do you honestly think there are things I don't know about you? Even a facet of your personality, soul, or body that I don't know about. Even if I didn't know everything then, do you honestly think I wouldn't have picked up on it in the five years that we've known each other." He finished, breathing heavily, and Dean could also see something else in his eyes, something almost possessive about the way he talked about him.

"Well, maybe you missed something." Dean said with a smirk, noticing their closeness. He could just close the distance between them in an easy movement. Wouldn't that surprise the Angel, didn't know as much as he thought he did. It was almost too good of a chance to pass up. If he could just bend his head a bit he would...

He needed a drink.

Pushing past Castiel, Dean walked to the kitchen. What had he just thought? What was he about to do? Make is friend angry, fight him, or molest him? This wasn't right, he didn't want to do any of those things. Not to Cas. The guy was just trying to help, trying to be there for support. He cared about him, just wanted him to get better and be himself again. That wasn't so bad, was it?

Grabbing a glass from the cabinets, he filled it with water, and drank it down slowly. Letting the cool liquid slide down his throat and calm his nerves before repeating the process. Three more glasses of water and he realized that he was going to need something a bit stronger. The need for another kill still pumping in his veins, getting stronger by the minute. He put the glass down, and pulled a bottle of whiskey from another cabinet. He gave himself three fingers in his glass, and started to drink. The burn of the alcohol easing the tension off a bit.

The first glass did not give as much help as he would have hoped, as it did not provide a decent enough buzz to take his mind off things. He poured himself another couple fingers, taking his time with this one. Sipping the alcohol, holding it in and savoring it.

It was while he was half-way through the third glass, that he heard a knock at the door.

Setting his cup down, he pulled out his gun from his waistband. Checking to see that it was in working order, he started towards the door. He spotted Sam walking up the steps. At Sam's nod, he went out through the garage, circling around to the front, making sure to not be seen or heard.

What he saw, was the last thing he expected.

Knowing it had to be some sort of monster, demon, or angel, he waited for Sam to open the door, before getting behind the thing and cocking and aiming his weapon.

"This had better be good." He said, as the dark haired man turned around.

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><p>Okay, Chapter 3 is up, and I'm afraid that will be it for the day.<p>

Hope you are liking it so far.


	4. Chapter 4: Come Clean

Chapter 4:

(Present)

"This had better be good." John heard from behind him.

Turning around, he came face to face with the barrel of a gun, on the other side stood his oldest. Who, by the way, did not look happy, and more ready to kill him if he made any sudden moves.

Slowly, John raised his hands in the air, the entire time looking his son in the eye. Knowing that it was the best way to keep Dean from firing his gun. He kept his hands up as he turned around, facing his youngest, taking in every new detail in his face that wasn't there before.

Sam stepped out of the door, and John noticed another person who had been hiding on the other side of the door walk out as well. He looked John up and down with a critical eye. His blue eyes piercing, John felt, into his very soul. As he stepped closer, John felt a sharp pain on the top of his hand. Looking down, he found a small cut on his hand, and the man was pulling away a silver blade. John had to admit, the guy was quick, he hadn't even seen the movement. John was impressed, until he got hit with the soap water, then he was just confused.

"Well, Cas?" He heard his oldest ask from behind him. "Is he a shifter, or a Demon?"

"Neither, he is human. Completely." The man, Cas, answered. Taking his eyes off John for a moment to give Dean a look.

"You're sure?" Sam asked.

"Positive." Cas answered. "I don't know how. Don't even want to contemplate why, honestly. But he's real." He finished, turning around and patting Sam on the shoulder as he re-entered the facility.

"Alright, inside before somebody sees us just standing out here." Dean said, giving John a small push on the shoulder to coax him inside.

When John stepped inside, he had to stop again to take everything in. The place was huge, with a staircase going down to the main area. John saw several hallways leading into other areas. He noticed the old archways leading into a library, where John could tell from there, the books where old. He noticed quite a bit of furniture that was old when he was young situated in various places through out the bunker.

"I have to admit boys, I'm impressed." John said, following Sam down the stairs. "Where'd you find this place anyway?" He asked, turning around to see his children share a look. "Well?"

"During a hunt." Dean answered. "We where tracking a Demon, and it was looking for a key to this place. We found this place before it got here, then just kinda stayed. It's perfect for us. It's a warehouse for all supernatural research the past thousand years. Kinda our headquarters now."

"Headquarters?" John asked skeptically. "Since when is hunting an operation that requires a Headquarters?"

"Well, to be honest, it more or rather has been for years. I mean Bobby kind of acted as a dispatcher." Sam started. "But no, we just needed a place to stay, and this place is cozy. It's actually a pretty sweet deal. Someone needs to keep this place up and running. We still go on hunts, but it's nice to know what your coming home to."

"I get that." John admitted. "But what about you?" He asked turning to Castiel. "You work with them and just decided to stay here."

"For the time being." Castiel answered, moving to stand next to Dean.

"What does that mean?" John asked.

"I'm here for more moral and emotional support." Castiel started, before Dean cut him off.

"That's not important. We should be the ones asking the questions here anyway." Dean said, getting off the wall he had leaned against. "Like why your here, how you found us, or, and this is just off the top of my head. How are you alive again?"

"I don't know." John answered.

"You don't know?" Dean repeated. "Nothing to give you any indication. I mean, nothings tried to contact you? Nothing left anything on your skin to mark you in any way?"

"No." John answered. "Not that I know of."

"Does that mean you didn't check, or do you not want to tell us?" Dean asked.

"I haven't exactly had the time, and where do you get off, with that attitude?" John asked, voice raising.

"Since you've been dead for nearly ten years, and I know that coming back usually comes with a price. Secrets in this family are usually what gets other people killed, and we've uncovered enough of yours in the past few years, that I'm inclined to never trust what you tell me again." Dean answered, his voice rising with every sentence. His gun still in his hands.

"I never kept secrets from you." John lied. Earning a snort from Dean.

"Really, your gonna try that? Well, just to give you an idea about what we've learned since you've been gone." Dean started, smile on his face. "Let me see, Adam comes to mind, though now you don't have to worry about him, seeing as how he's been dead for about four years. Or what about the fact that Mom was a hunter when she was younger. Or, maybe I feel justified considering the huge bomb you dropped on me right before that Demon took your life and soul. Or maybe, we can call up some of your old girlfriends, you know, the ones that knew more about what you did then we did." He finished, his voice full of resentment.

"Dean, I can understand that your upset about me not telling you about certain aspects of my job." John started before Dean continued.

"Certain aspects of the job you forced us into. You abandoned us on a number of occasions because of your job." Dean said, moving into his fathers space.

"Dean." Sam said, pulling him back. "Why don't you go calm down. I'm sure if you stop to think about what your doing, you know this isn't you." He continued, pointing Dean in the direction of his room.

"I'm not a child Sam." Dean argued.

"Sure acting like it." John said, anger in his voice.

"Your not helping." Sam said, turning on his father. "Cas, do you think you could help Dean calm down while I talk to Dad, and see if I can catch him up on everything from the past few years." Sam suggested.

"Of course." Castiel agreed, putting a hand to Dean's shoulder and steering him in the direction headed into the back.

"I'll take care of this." Sam said, running his hand over his face, then turning to his father. "Let me, go make some coffee. This is going to take awhile." He said, pointing in the direction of the kitchen, in a gesture for his father to find a seat.

"Where'd they go?" John said, pointing to the direction Dean and Cas had left in.

"Gun room, or gym area." Sam answered, looking in the direction they left. "I promise I'll give you the tour later. I just need some coffee first, it's been a long day." He said, walking in the direction of the kitchen.

* * *

><p>"What the Hell, Cas?" Dean said, slapping Castiel's hand away from his shoulders. The guy was strong, and held on a lot more tightly then he let on. Dean wouldn't be surprised if he had another hand-shaped bruise there.<p>

"I did not believe you would have come willingly. I'm sorry." Castiel apologized. "But you seemed to need a chance to collect your thoughts."

Dean walked away, and looked around. He noticed that Castiel had dragged him to the room they used for firing practice. Walking over to the place they kept the guns, he picked up an automatic and walked over to the targets. Taking aim he started firing blanks in order to avoid wasting ammo. Working off his anger with every shot.

"I thought this would help. You have been filled with violent energy lately. This seemed an appropriate outlet." Castiel said, leaning up against the wall.

"Yeah, well, it's not gonna do much for my anger issues with him here, and you guys won't let me out for a hunt. I guess that means I'm gonna be spending most of my time in here." Dean said, putting more bullets into the gun.

"Well, if you feel you need a form of physical exertion, I'm here for you." Castiel said, making Dean nearly drop the gun.

"What?" He asked, feeling a blush creep up on his cheek. Did Castiel hear his thoughts earlier, was he proposing what he thought he was. "You wanna run that by me again."

"Well, I do have years of experience in hand to hand combat, and I'm in fairly good shape. If you decide you need a sparing partner or anything, I can help." Castiel answered, tilting his head to the side in that way that Dean has come to recognize as his way of saying, 'I'm confused'. "What did you think I meant?"

"Uh...That, yeah, that's what I thought you where talking about. It just caught me off guard." Dean said, taking aim again. Mind running with what he was really thinking about. Of course Cas was thinking about sparing with him, and not the hot sweaty and fun kind of physical exertion. The image penetrated his mind then, and he figured he should probably keep his mind off that when he missed his shot. "Damn it."

He could feel Castiel watching him from the side of the room. The guy never seemed to blink, and that was just freaking intimidating. He felt sorry for anyone else to have to deal with that stare. His father would most definitely not like that. He relied on people's blinks to figure out when they where vulnerable while fighting.

'Yeah, this is gonna be fun.' Dean thought sarcastically taking aim with his gun again.

* * *

><p>"Your wanna run that by me again son?" John said, staring at his youngest across the table in disbelief.<p>

Sam, for his part, looked as if he was trying his best to keep his face friendly and honest. The freshly brewed coffee in his hands rapidly cooling. The pot sitting between the two, on an oven mit, with an empty cup next to it, waiting for John to get himself a cup. He had attempted to explain everything to his father slowly, and give him the cliff notes version. But John had started in on Castiel immediately.

"The Apocalypse." Sam repeated. Smile staying on his face, looking incredibly forced.

"Have you been hit in the head?" John asked, seeming concerned for his child.

"Yes, several times. But that has nothing to do with this." Sam started. "Now, before you start asking more questions, and thinking I've lost my mind. Just sit and listen for a moment. I know it's not your favorite thing to do. Okay, cause you have been dead ten years, and a lot of stuff has happened." Sam started, holding up a hand to stave off any rebuttal from his father.

"Okay, like what?" John asked.

"Well, let's see. A year after you died, we managed to kill the Demon." Sam started, peaking his fathers interest. "I mean, yeah, in the process, I may have been kidnapped, killed, and brought back by Dean selling his soul. But we got him." Sam reasoned at his fathers look of horror and outrage.

"Wait, what do you mean you died and Dean sold his soul. Contracts only last for ten years, is he gonna get hunted down any day now or something?" John asked, his mind going into a panic. He just came back, his kid can't die just when he got back.

"No, no, Dad." Sam said, giving his dad a calming gesture. "Dean's contract was only for a year, and he's already been taken to Hell." Sam elaborated, but it did not have the calming effect on his father he wanted, so he continued. "Which is where he met Cas." Sam said, pointing in the direction they had disappeared from. "Cas has quite a bit of knowledge on the subject and offered to help. In return for helping him with a couple of things as well, of course."

"Samuel, please tell me that you didn't make a deal with another monster to save your brother." John pleaded. This whole family was full of self-sacrificing idiots. He could see the guy being a well hidden monster, he was just too stiff.

"No, Dad. I didn't, and Cas is not a monster." Sam added as an afterthought. "He just needed a hand with something, and it's a good thing he was the one that found us to help, or we might not be here anymore. Hell, the world my not even be here anymore." Sam said, seemingly talking more to himself towards the end. His mind working fast, deciding it was best to keep Cas' true identity a secret until their father had warmed up to him a bit.

"What?" John asked.

"Well, Cas had stumbled onto something big and then found out about Dean. He offered to pull Dean out of Hell, because a Demon was trying to start the Apocalypse, and Dean was needed to stop it." Sam started to explain again to his father who was sitting dumbfounded on the other side of the table. "Dean and I where needed by the Angel's for something, and eventually, they told us that they where just going to let the Apocalypse happen. Honestly, if it weren't for Cas' quick thinking, and a few Angels willing to help Dean and me, we probably wouldn't have managed to stop it."

"You two, and Mister Stoic and creepy back there, stopped the Apocalypse?" John asked. "Did you two retire after that?" John asked, hoping. If there was ever a time to retire, if would be after that.

"No, we still hunt." Sam answered, with a defeated look on his face. "We both tried at one point or another to go back to civilian life. But things just kept popping up, and we would get dragged back in. There has always been another big and bad, that seemed to be out for our blood, or planning on taking over the world and it was all hunters on deck. One thing or another." Sam continued. "I mean, after the Apocalypse, I didn't have a soul, so we dealt with that, then Purgatory was opened and Leviathans where turning the human race into cattle. Then Dean and Cas where trapped in purgatory with them. It just starts getting really repetitive after awhile."

"You've got to be pulling my leg." John said, smirking at his son, as if he just caught on to a fantastic joke.

"I wish I where." Sam said, heaving a huge sigh. "But I'm not. That's why Dean is so angry. You died, this crap load landed in our laps, and he just started to resent you with the more secrets we found. Couple that with the detox and he's going to be edgy and pissed off for awhile. But he'll get past it. You just gotta be patient." He finished, laying a comforting hand on his father's.

"Detox from what?" John asked. Sam spitting out his coffee and thinking fast. He couldn't tell his father about the mark of Cain. About the side affects of it. His father would not take that well. He could try to do something stupid, or potentially lethal to himself or Dean. He loved his father, but he could be a bit closed minded at times.

"Alcohol." He answered quickly. Dean has had a history of alcohol problems. "He's an alcoholic."

"Every hunter is an alcoholic." John argued skeptically. "You don't see the things that we see without trying hide behind the bottle when you get home."

"Yeah, but with Dean, it's become a serious problem. That's why Cas is here now. We have plenty of room, and...Well, Dean won't admit it. But he depends on Cas for a lot, and not just help in hunting." Sam explained, lying about the alcohol, but not the rest. "Speaking of which, we just gave Dean his intervention today, so on to the next step. Removing temptation." Sam said, getting into the liquor cabinet, and taking everything out. Dean was going to kill him when he found out, but it couldn't be helped.

"If you think you need a drink, there's a bar in town and a liquor store as well. Just keep the bottles in you room or something." Sam cautioned, to make it seem more believable.

"How long has Dean had this problem?" John asked, looking up to his son, as Sam poured all the bottles down the sink. Obviously not having the same problem that he and Dean shared.

"It started after you died. Then it got worse after he got back from Hell..." Sam started, then paused as if thinking of something. "Do you remember Hell?" He asked.

"No, I don't really remember anything.."John started. "Wait, how'd you know?"

"Dean and I kinda figured it out, like two minutes after I found you in the room. It was kind of obvious." Sam explained. "But you don't remember. That's good, of course Dean told me the same thing, even though he started drinking more and more, and waking up every night screaming, then not sleeping at all. I found out, he did remember. He remembered everything, right down to the last detail."

That stopped John cold. His son was not only in Hell, but remembered it, vividly from what Sam was telling him. No wonder Dean had sought help from the bottom of the bottle. No wonder his son seemed dragged down and angry. He'd been tortured, and still remembered it. It was bad enough that his kids had had a hard life, but his oldest was having even more troubles mentally. He'd seen people in the war, the ones who came back from the POW camps. They where never the same again, and certainly couldn't fight anymore.

"Why is he still hunting then?" John asked, anger evident in his voice. "If he is having mental issues, he should not be hunting."

"He feels like he has to. For one." Sam answers. "And while he's detoxing, he won't be doing any hunting. But for awhile, he did it because he thought it was therapeutic, slaughtering other monsters, and getting into fights. Cas actually helped a lot with that, calmed him down in certain times. Or made him laugh, which is something he hadn't done for awhile. Bobby helped quite a bit with knocking sense into him when I couldn't."

"How is Bobby, by the way?" John asked, wanting to get away from this depressing conversation.

"Dead." Sam answered stiffly. "Leviathans shot him in the head."

"Oh." John said, his hopes shot down. This was gonna be a hard couple of weeks until they all got used to each other again.

* * *

><p>Okay, Chapter 4 is up. This fic, if you hadn't noticed, is going to be a bit darker then my others. I will try to keep my chapters long, but that means updates aren't going to be happening very fast. I still have a day job, and other issues in my life I have to take care of. But I can promise I will not leave it abandoned.<p>

I Hope you enjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5: Breakfast

Chapter 5:

Dean woke up with an extremely intense headache. The resounding pounding in his head making him groan and turn over. Why did he feel so bad? For the life of him, he couldn't remember very well, but he smelt gun powder residue on his hands and shirt. He'd apparently fallen asleep last night without changing.

Getting up slowly, he stretched his arms high above his head, hearing a several pops from his back and shoulders. Wincing slightly, he stood up and went to his closet in search of something to wear.

"That can't be good for your back." He heard from behind him, causing him to slam his hand on the door in irritation.

"Damn it Cas, how many times have I told you not to do that. It's creepy." Dean said, turning around to glare at his friend who was sitting innocently in a chair across the room, faced towards the bed.

"I was concerned about you." Castiel admitted, continuing to stare at his friend. "After you emptied several clips into the paper representations of humans in the gun room, you reduced a punching bag into rags and sand."

"That was real? I thought it was some crazy dream." Dean said, picking an old T-shirt. He may as well try to get some exercise to work off some of this energy he's got built up, before he takes a shower.

"It was real, yes. As where the events that happened before that." Castiel answered, watching Dean as he went about collecting his work-out clothes.

"Great." Dean said sarcastically. "Fucking wonderful. This is going to be a great fucking day. No wonder my mind is telling me to go back to sleep." Dean ranted, throwing his clothes on his bed. "Now do you mind, I know you like to get your freak on by watching me sleep, but it's a bit uncomfortable while your in the room while I'm changing."

"Of course." Castiel agreed, getting up and walking to the door.

"Oh, and hey." Dean said, turning around. "Could you meet me in the sparing room?" He asked with a hopeful look.

"Of course." Castiel said, nodding with a small smile.

* * *

><p>John sat at the table in the kitchen, head held in his hands. Sam had gone to bed hours ago. John figuring he'd had enough sleep, ten years worth apparently. From the sound of it, he had a lot to make up for too. His boys had been through too much in the past decade.<p>

He looked up when he heard footsteps behind him. Looking around him, he saw that his boy's friend had walked in. Did he ever take that coat off?

"Good morning." Castiel spoke, John noticing just how deep and gravely his voice was. He was a bit surprised, that voice didn't seem like it should be matched with that face and slim body type.

"Morning." John greeted, watching Castiel grab the coffee pot, and clean it out before starting the process of making coffee. "So, where did you take my son last night, when you disappeared with him?"

"The gun room." Castiel answered flatly.

"So there is a gun room?" John asked, looking behind him to the cavernous hallways that lead deeper into the place.

"Yes." Castiel answered, turning on the machine and getting a mug ready with sugar and milk.

"Do you ever say more then one or two words at the time?" John asked, looking at Castiel as if he thought he was playing with him.

"Sometimes." Castiel answered, not bothering to look at John, to pre-occupied by his task.

"Boy..." John started, before hearing a burst of laughter from the hall to Dean's room. He turned around, to see his oldest with a smile on his face. "Something funny here Dean?"

"Oh, just the headache that is talking to Cas." Dean said, stretching out his arms. John seeing just why this guy was someone that Dean considered a friend. They where both smart-asses, one was just less obvious then the other. Dean then looked to his friend. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, do you want some coffee first?" Castiel asked, indicating the cup and half-full coffee pot.

"Nah. Too much energy, coffee will only make me edgy and cranky at this point. I need to work this off, so let's go." Dean said, heading down another hall.

"Where you going?" John asked, as Castiel took off his coat and followed Dean further into the bunker.

"Just some exercise, you don't need to follow." Dean said, not turning around to answer his father, but continuing on his course.

John could take the hint. At the moment, his son was upset with him. He could understand that. Dean had made it clear last night that he was mad at him, and it was justified. If not about most of the stuff that had happened, Adam was a big one that sprang to his mind. He didn't think he would ever forgive himself for that. He already hated himself for what his son's had gone through because he was obsessed with revenge.

He knew no one paid more for his obsession then the monsters he killed and his children. Especially Dean. He could very well have scarred his children for life, hell, he knew he did. But he had been given another chance, he didn't know why. He also had come to the conclusion, based on what Sam had told him last night, the shit would hit the fan eventually. Until that happened, he should make the best of the situation, and make up for all the crap he'd dumped on his kids while he could.

Dean shouldn't have to go to some other person for moral support during a difficult time. That was his family's job. Sure he didn't have much, but John could at least provide some help. He should be able to help more then some guy he hadn't met until five or so years ago.

'I can help my own damn son.' John thought, standing up and following the direction Dean and Castiel had gone. Regretting immediately that he hadn't taken the time last night to explore. He had no idea where he was, or what hall they went down. He thought he could go down the same hall they did, but then the hall started branching off.

He kept his ears open, hoping to hear some kind of sound of were they had gone. But the halls where so old and cavernous, they echoed. He was having a hard time pin-pointing the different noises, and the very silence seemed to create a white noise all it's own. Making it harder for him to hear the other noises. He opened several doors, but found nothing more then boxes and furniture. He thought he had found the gun room, when he came across a large concrete room that housed a variety of guns and the walls had holes in them. Along with several paper targets.

Making a mental note of all the twist and turns he took to get to this room. He left and went deeper into the bunker. He continued down, taking halls at random, peeking his head in every so often. Sam had told him this place had plenty of room, and he wasn't kidding. He had found several storage rooms, and a few bed rooms. He finally thought he was hearing something that he was looking for when he heard grunting.

He followed the noise down a hall, into another room that was lined with pads. The remains of a punching bag lay in the corner, yet to be cleaned up, while a new hung on the opposite corner. There was a few weights and dun-bells hung on the walls, placed out of the way to prevent someone tripping on them and getting injured. In the center of the room was his son, shirt drenched in sweat, trading deadly maneuvers with Castiel who seemed to be completely composed and not even out of breath.

He nearly ran at them when he watched Castiel grab a kick that Dean had attacked with in mid-air. Then used Dean's surprise to kick out his other foot, making him land on his stomach before Castiel was on top of him. Keeping hold of his foot, and twisting one of his arms around in a painful angle, but making sure not to cause injury and break anything. The man used his knee to apply pressure to Dean's back, keeping him grounded.

"You know, one of these days, I'm gonna get you." Dean shot from his position, face down on the floor. John could see the smile on his face.

"If it helps you sleep at night." Castiel said, releasing Dean from his hold, and rolling over to lie down on the ground with Dean as he turned over. "You feeling any better?"

"Oh, yeah. That helped. Thanks man." Dean said, slapping a hand on his friends chest. Dean then stood up, groaning at his aching muscles. "Now, I think is a good time for coffee and breakfast." He said, stretching and turning towards the door, catching sight of his father.

"You getting soft?" John asked. Looking at his son with a small smirk.

"Considering your version of soft is anything less then perfection, then probably." Dean answered, walking out of the room. Castiel watching him go with a look of disappointment. Or at least, that's what John thought it was. The guy didn't seem to have much in the way of expression.

"How long is he gonna keep avoiding me?" John asked, pointing in the direction Dean had gone. He was used to walking on egg shells around Sam, but it seems now, the roles have reversed and he was going to have to do so with Dean.

"Until he absolves a few issues within himself." Castiel answered. "But, if there is anything I've learned about Dean over the past few years." He said with a small smile on his face. "He'll will always forgive in the end. He will somehow find the strength."

"Yeah, he has more of his mother in him then he would likely know." John said, watching his son walk down the hall.

"Oh, he knows. Even still, it will most likely take him a couple weeks, or months." Castiel said, leaving John alone in the room.

John watched them walk away for a moment, Castiel catching up with Dean quickly as he was not quite as worn out. He decided to give them a few minutes before he followed. His son obviously needed to take him in doses, and come to him. But, realistically, he'll probably only put up with it for a couple of days before his temper gets the better of him. He took a couple of hits on the punching bag to alleviate some of this stress that was already building up in him. When he finally started to follow them, he was not expecting to run into Sam.

"Morning." Sam said, opening a door that led into a bedroom. John took in the jogging suit and the headphones.

"Morning." John greeted. Noticing that Sam's room was kept virtually spotless through the crack, and that there was only one bed. He found himself happy that at least a few things where still constant. "You and Dean certainly took the opportunity to spread yourselves out, huh?"

"You could say that." Sam said. "Did you find a room, okay?"

"Nah, but I didn't really look." John answered.

"Well, maybe after breakfast, we can find one and clean it out. Get you some of your own stuff." Sam suggested. "That is, if you plan on staying."

"I had planned on it." John answered, noticing Sam's look of surprise.

"Good, then we can work on getting what you need later. I think Dean's making breakfast." Sam informed, stepping into his room to get a change of clothes before taking a shower.

John watched his son walk away to what he assumed where the showers, and continued down the hall. He came out to the main area, where the smell of bacon hit his nose. The idea of food lifting his spirits slightly. He walked into the kitchen, surprised to see his oldest standing at a stove, actually cooking. Sure, in the past, Dean would attempt to cook something every now and then at Bobby's. But while on the road, the extent of his culinary skills equaled nothing more then can soup, a sandwich, cereal, or Marconi and cheese with the occasional can of chili poured in.

Dean seemed to be setting a few plates with bacon, before stirring something in a bowl that looked suspiciously like scrambled eggs. Castiel was sitting at the table, sipping on a cup of coffee that was steaming slightly.

"Morning again son." John started, while Dean didn't even look up. John shrugged to himself, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Morning, you want something to eat with that?" Dean said, handing him a plate with bacon, eggs, and toast.

"Yes, thank you." John said, taking the plate and walking to the table as Dean turned around.

"Hey, Cas, you going to eat anything?" Dean asked, looking to his friend.

"I believe I will Dean." Castiel answered with a grateful nod. Receiving one in return from Dean, and getting a plate in front of him.

"Good, you should." Dean said, pointing an accusatory finger at Castiel, as if berating him for starving himself.

"I don't see the point in over indulging." Castiel reminded, as Dean sat down another plate for Sam, then brought his coffee and breakfast to the table.

"Well, you should still eat bacon, because it's awesome, and you haven't lived until you tried it." Dean stated, then, as if to prove his point, took a bite of the piece he was holding.

"Hmm." Castiel answered him, then picking up his own piece. "You know, in some cultures, it is considered a sin to eat bacon, and many people go their entire lives without ever consuming a single piece of it." He lectured, before taking a bite out himself, and letting out a pleased noise of surprise.

"See, what I tell you." Dean said with a self-satisfied smile. "And do you honestly think that I give a rat's ass about sinning? Really Cas, when have you seen me care about that?" He asked, bringing a smile to Castiel.

"I suppose you don't really. After all, the unique adventures you took me on in the past few years would definitely prove your point." Castiel amended, a rolling his eyes at the memories.

"I'm guessing you guys have some very unique adventures?" John asked, sending his son a confused look. "He doesn't really seem like a party animal?"

"The Apocalypse was definitely a most adventurous time. Dean taught me a lot of new things." Castiel offered.

"Dude, you had a permanent stick up your ass. I had to find some ways to loosen you up, and look, it worked." Dean defended, before adding. "To a certain extent."

"What are we talking about?" Sam asked, coming in and pouring himself a cup of coffee before sitting down to eat.

"Dean taking Cas on wild parties and adventures. I'm sure you where with them as well." John answered, as Sam sent his brother a glare.

"Dean, you did not tell him about Cas' bender did you?" Sam reproached, glaring at his brother.

"No, but thank you for saving me the trouble." Dean grinned.

"You went out on a bender?" John asked, looking at his son disbelievingly. To his credit, Dean did look slightly guilty.

"No, he took himself on one. I just taught him how to drink away your problems." Dean defended himself, and pointing at Castiel.

"In his defense, he didn't even know about it." Castiel pointed out helpfully. "Though my first drink did come out of that den of inequity you took me to." He said, making Sam and John spit out their coffee.

"Dude, not helping." Dean yelled at him.

"What?" Sam asked, looking at his brother.

"Sam, why would you let your brother do that?" John asked, turning to his youngest. "How would you even know where to find one?" He asked, turning to his oldest.

"I didn't." Sam defended. "I don't even remember that. Why do I not remember that Dean?" He snarled at his brother.

"It was after War. You know, when you went on your journey of self-enlightenment. I still needed a partner, and Cas helped me out." Dean answered, going back to his breakfast. Sam still staring at his brother, making Dean stop. "What?"

"How exactly does that translate into you taking CAS to a whore house?" Sam snapped, not giving his brother a chance to bail out on explaining himself.

"In defense, I did tell Dean, there was a big chance that I would not survive through the next day." Castiel attempted to help again. Dean slapped his hand on his head.

"So, your response was to take him out to get him laid?" Sam admonished. "I can't even comprehend what could have been going through your mind."

"I was thinking that my best friend planned on dying the next day, and that I should at least let him have a good time before he does." Dean defended himself. "I mean, come on. The guy was still a virgin for crying out loud. I thought I could give him a chance to the see the best things about being human." Dean continued, getting worked up and annoyed.

John didn't know what to think about this conversation. He was also lost as to when to jump in. He did always enjoy watching his sons when they got into their own little world. He was glad to see that they where still just as close. Even if his oldest did inhabit a morally grey area. Which he was uncertain how to feel about that.

"Can we please stop this conversation. It's making me uncomfortable." Castiel asked, getting Sam and Dean's attention.

"Yeah, of course." Sam said, turning back to his breakfast.

"Sorry Cas." Dean apologized. Taking another drink of coffee to hide his shame. John watched as his boys went back to their breakfast. He was a bit surprised by their quick reaction to their friend. He seemed to fit in with the them that exist now, rather then who they where when he died. Dean and Castiel especially seemed to have their own special kind of bond.

But the guy was just so stiff. That was something that he still found a bit odd. In his experience, no one was that still and calm at all times. He'd had to go through some serious training. Maybe he was ex-CIA or FBI or something. He'd have to keep an eye on that.

* * *

><p>As always, hope you liked.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6: Vow to do Better

Chapter 6:

The headache continued to persist through the next few days. He also found himself feeling nauseous when he woke up. He groaned as he got out of bed, looking to the chair that usually housed his friend. Finding nothing, he got up and immediately dressed. Making a brief stop at the bathroom once out of his room to help with that queasy feeling in his stomach.

He went out to the kitchen, finding Castiel sitting at the table, reading a news paper. His friend seeming to have taken the liberty of raiding his drawers for the third time in the week. Today, sporting a pair of jeans, slightly too big, and a plain grey shirt he had that made his eyes more pronounced.

Looking around, he saw that they where alone. Good.

"Morning." He greeted, sitting down with his friend.

"Good morning Dean." Castiel greeted. Turning the page of the paper.

"So, I've got a question." Dean started. "What's with the act for the past couple of days? You know, stealing my clothes, eating, not zapping me around everywhere."

"I thought, given your father's history, to act human for the time being would be best. I find it also beneficial to keeping my grace stored for any future issues." Castiel answered, continuing to look at his paper.

Dean took this in, and believed that it might actually be a good idea. But that brought a couple more questions to mind. He looked to Castiel, taking in dark circles and redness around his eyes.

"So your sleeping to?" Dean asked.

"Yes, it actually helps to replenish the grace I do use. I've been showering as well." Castiel answered.

"Right, that's a good plan. So how long you plan on keeping this up?" Dean asked, recalling all of Castiel's other attempts at acting human.

"For as long as I am able." He answered, getting up and busying himself with the coffee pot.

"Okay then." Dean said, slapping his hands down on the table to push himself up. This, if anything, was going to be a fun thing to watch. "Well, if your sure about this, will it be safe to continue to spare with me?" He asked, worry evident. He needed some way of working off some of the extra energy the mark was giving him.

"That is the only thing my grace is being use for at present." Castiel answered with a small smile. "Are you needing a session at the moment?"

"Yeah, I do." Dean said, tilting his head down a bit.

"Well then, we should remedy that." Castiel said, heading in the direction of the gym. Dean moving quickly to follow.

* * *

><p>Dean slammed into the mat for the third time in the past hour, feeling the tight ball in his chest loosen. He let out a pained laugh and slowly got up. Castiel standing over him with a smile. His hands at his sides, and his chest rising and falling with each breath.<p>

"Are you done, or would you like to go again?" Castiel asked, keeping his smile in place, and having a slightly playful look in his eye.

"Yeah, yeah. You beat my ass again." Dean said, rubbing his shoulder and wincing.

Castiel offered a hand to Dean to help him up. Dean grabbed on and lifted himself while Castiel pulled, feeling the heat from his hand spread through his body. These work-outs, while not the only physical thing he would be liking to do with his friend, where definitely a big help. Though he was starting the think it wouldn't be Castiel squirming underneath him, if the way he fought was anything to go by.

"Let's just go and make some breakfast before Sam get's in there and starts making something healthy." Dean said, patting Castiel on the back and walking out of the room. He needed some water.

He walked through the halls, back into the kitchen where the prepared coffee pot set, hot and ready. He retrieved two mugs from the counter, feeling his hands shake while he was holding them. He looked down at his hands, he hadn't noticed the shaking earlier. But now that he'd noticed it, he couldn't seem to make it stop. Maybe if he just focused on doing something, keep his hands busy. Nodding to himself, he went to the cub-bards to see what to do for breakfast.

Pulling down some pancake batter, he measured out the suggested amount, some spilling out on the counter when his hand gave a violent jerk. Cursing to himself, he looked over his shoulder to find he was alone. Maybe Castiel had opted to take a quick shower while Dean was cooking. Regardless, he was thankful. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but he definitely didn't want anyone seeing it.

He added the water and eggs, and began stirring the mixture, happy that his movements where manageable while doing so.

While he was pouring a portion of the batter onto the pan, the scent hit his nose, and another wave of nausea hit him. He made quick work of heading to the bathroom, leaving the pancake on the pan.

He ran into an empty bathroom, and stood at the toilet as the queasy feeling over took him. Depositing the little contents of this stomach, felt his hands shaking horribly. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the cold sweat that had accumulated there.

"Damn it." He swore, walking over to the mirror and looking at his pale complexion. He breathed deeply a couple of times before rinsing his face off with cold water. "What is wrong with me?" He asked his reflection. Not being able to find an answer, he walked back out to the kitchen, seeing Sam at the stove. Flipping a golden brown pancake in the pan. The remains of Dean's first attempts at breakfast sitting to the side. Burned to a crisp.

"Hey." Sam greeted, his hair wet and freshly showered. "What happened to you? You don't usually leave the stove on for things to burn." Sam said, turning to his brother, and stopping at the sight of him.

"What?" Dean asked, going to the liquor cabinet. Maybe he just needed a drink.

"Are you okay? You look sick." Sam said, voice rising in concern.

"I'm fine. Nothing a bit of Jack won't fix." Dean said, opening the cabinet, and reaching up without looking. His hand however, meeting nothing but air. He looked up to see the thing completely bare. Slamming the cabinet shut, he took a deep breath and looked to his brother. "Where's the liquor?" He asked his brother who was busying himself with the pancakes, refusing to look at him.

"I poured it down the sink." Sam mumbled, flipping a pancake in avoidance.

"Sam?" Dean asked, inclining his head closer to his brother to hear him better. "Didn't get that."

"I poured it down the sink." Sam repeated in a slightly louder voice. Dean looked at him with a blank expression before it turned quickly into irritation.

"Okay, I'm gonna ask this once." Dean said, holding up a hand and pointing at his brother. "WHY?"

"Well, I may have let slip to Dad that you where detoxing, as a excuse for your anger. But I couldn't really tell him about the mark, you know Dad. He would have gone ballistic and ended up doing something to hurt you, or get himself hurt. So..." Sam hedged. "I had to tell him something that would be a reason to keep you here. Otherwise he would have found a hunt in a matter of hours, and tried to drag us along with him. Which is not a good idea in your current state."

"Get to the point Sam." Dean ordered, he really was not in the mood.

"I may have told him that you where an alcoholic." Sam admitted, bowing his head down in shame.

"You what?" Dean asked, face going red.

"It was the only thing I could think of Dean." Sam explained. "I mean, you do have a bit of a problem with it. It wasn't that far fetched."

"Great." Dean started, lips rising on his face in a mockery of a smile. "Just great. So now, I have absolutely no way of dealing with the stress from this thing." Dean said, gesturing to his arm. "That is making me want to kill people. Brilliant idea Sam. Now what am I supposed to do." Dean yelled.

"Well, you've been sparing with Cas all week long." Sam defended. "Are you saying that's not helping you at all?"

"Not as much as you think." Dean answered, before grabbing his hand and groaning as another wave of nausea washed over him.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam asked, turning off the stove and walking over to his brother.

"Fine." Dean bit out, swaying a bit.

"No, your not." Sam said, helping his brother to his room. "Come on, back to bed."

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean argued, before stopping in his tracks and running to the bathroom again.

"Sure you are." Sam said sarcastically, following his brother and waiting out in the hallway. "Go to bed, Dean. I'll bring you some soup later." Sam said, heading back to the kitchen.

When finished, Dean thought maybe going back to bed was a good idea. He left the bathroom, walking through the halls. He walked past the library, seeing Castiel bent over a mountain of books. His faced scrunched in concentration. Dean figured he was probably looking up some way of curing the Mark, and kept walking. If he laid down, maybe all this stuff will go away.

* * *

><p>"Came on, back to bed." John heard Sam say, as he led Dean out of the kitchen. He looked to the stove, seeing the batter and pancakes. Walking over to it, he turned the stove back on and started finishing the batter for breakfast. Thinking it best to let Sam handle whatever was going on with Dean. Knowing his oldest was most likely to lash out at him, if he's not feeling well. Dean was always angry when he was sick.<p>

He heard Sam come back into the kitchen, and start pouring himself some coffee.

"So, what's wrong with your brother." John asked, looking to his youngest and offering him a plate of pancakes.

"Vomiting, tired, headache, you know. The signs of early detox. No big deal, he just feels like crap." Sam said, taking the plate and walking to the table. "He'll probably sleep a few hours and then be his usual cheery self when he wakes up." He finished, adding syrup to his short stack. John gave him a disbelieving look. "Okay, maybe not cheery."

"I didn't think so." John said, sitting down across from his son.

They began to eat in silence, just the scraping of knives and forks on plates, with the occasional gulp of coffee was heard throughout the kitchen. John watching his youngest as he ate, taking note that he had let his hair grow out, and he looked a lot more adult then he'd been ten years ago. Which was understandable. But while he was here, alone with Sam, there where several things from the other night he wanted to get more information on. He hated having to destroy the peacefulness, but it was eating at him.

"So." John started, Sam looking up from his plate. "The other day, your brother mentioned something about Adam. You guys met him then?" He asked, he didn't really know the kid very well, but he was his son. John was going to be concerned about him.

Sam seemed to stop and think before answering. Whatever he was going to tell him, John had a feeling he wasn't going to like it. He seemed very reluctant to tell him anything about the topic. John steeled himself, realizing that he was about to get some bad news.

"No, we never actually met him." Sam answered slowly, looking back down at his food and not meeting his father's eyes. This course of events was easier for him to hear.

"Boy, look me in the face when you talk to me, and tell me what you mean." John said, his father's skills kicking in. Sam was a grown man, he needed to look ahead and talk to someone with confidence, no matter who it was.

"Sorry sir." Sam said looking up. "No, we never actually met him. We got a call on your phone a couple years ago from him. We didn't believe it at first, so Dean ran all the test. But then he told us that he called because his mom was missing." Sam started, looking at his father's face. No matter the differences they had in the past, or how long he'd been dead, he still understood that tone of voice. That no nonsense tone that demanded obedience. "When we got there, we found a lot of blood in the vent under her bed. Later we found out, Adam wasn't even Adam anymore." Sam said.

"What do you mean?" John asked, a cold feeling creeping into his stomach.

"He'd been eaten by Ghouls, and they where using his form to try to coax you into a trap. Apparently you missed a couple when you where in that town. Only killed the dad." Sam explained. "Unlucky for them, you where already dead. Unfortunately, that didn't stop them from trying to kill us. But at least we knew how to defend ourselves." He finished, then added after a thought. "I wanted to thank you for that, by the way. I know I hated you when I was a kid, but now...I'm glad I know how." He finished, sending his father a grateful look.

"I just did what I thought was best by you boys. I thought I was doing the same with Adam, keeping him away from all this. I was so stupid. I didn't really have a choice with you two, but I thought he would have had more of a chance. But I guess I was wrong." John admitted, trying his best to keep himself calm. What Sam had said was affecting him more then he'd care to admit, but he'd lost a son, due to his dishonesty. As well as his inability to keep himself under control. He should have at least used protection when he'd hooked up with that nurse.

"Dad, I understand now. A lot better then I did before." Sam consoled. "But I am going to remind you. Dean and I are adults now. We have our own system, and it's been working pretty well with us for the past few years. I know once this is done, your going to want to go on hunts again. But we can't just be ordered around like soldiers. This is just a heads up to let you know. That way, we can avoid as many arguments as possible."

"I understand that." John said, he had made a vow to himself to change. Be more of a father, and not a drill sergeant. "I've been given another chance to be a better father, and I'm gonna do it. It's gonna be tough. But I'm gonna try." John agreed. He had been given another chance, and he's going to make it a good one.

* * *

><p>Okay, there is another one. Dean's symptoms are going to start picking up on him. John's made a promise to be a better father, but how well will that go, I wonder?<p>

Anyway, hope you liked.


	7. Chapter 7: Things Can Only Get Better?

WARNING: this chapter contains depictions of anxiety attacks, hallucinations, depictions of hell, and homophobic slurs.

There will be warnings in the future for anything related to these topics as well. If you have any issues and do not think you can handle them, I would advise you to skip the chapters, or turn back now.

* * *

><p>Chapter 7<p>

After breakfast, John had attempted to explore the bunker more. He'd already figured out the hall that his room was in. Sam was down the same area, and had helped him find one, getting Dean and Castiel to help with furniture.

He'd decided to go down the opposite hall, the one he'd seen Sam taking Dean down earlier. He laughed slightly to himself for a moment. His kids had wasted no time in spreading themselves out once they had the means. He supposed, living in close quarters your entire life would do that. Especially since they where now two grown men who needed their privacy, and not two children who stayed up past bed-time playing with each other.

However, he found mostly storage rooms, and laboratories. Sam had mentioned this being a research facility for the supernatural. That being said, he had remembered seeing a small portion of what appeared to be a large library. He decided to go check that out, odds are he would find some very informative books in there. He no longer had to worry about the Demon, Sam had told him that. But now, he could pour himself into hunting other things, things that are more pests and menaces.

He walked into the library, finding Dean's friend sitting there, surrounded by a mountain of books. He seemed to be working on something, the books he seemed to be looking into involving Demonology, and Bible lore. But a few of them held titles in other languages, and books about Supernatural infections, or diseases. His hair was more disheveled then ever, looking as if he'd run his hands through it several times.

"Sam mentioned you where the nerdy type." John stated, looking at the man before him. He was around the same age as Dean, maybe a couple years older. The man looked up and tilted his head at John's words. Reminding John slightly of a puppy that was confused by human behavior.

"I hardly see how the pursuit of knowledge is considered 'nerdy'." Castiel answered, looking back down at his books.

Pursuit of knowledge? Who the hell talks like that? John thought, looking at the man head deep in a book on supernatural cures for ailments. Once again, John found himself wondering just what his boys where seeing in this guy he wasn't. At least not for Dean. Sam could make friends with anyone, and probably even enjoyed someone to talk to about anything academic.

He walked to the shelves and started looking at the titles, seeing several things he thought he would find useful, and a few things he was pretty sure Bobby was the only one who could read. The guy was his only source in translating ancient languages. He looked back over to Castiel and noticed he was reading something in what looked like Enochian. Well, maybe now there was another one, if he was inclined to help.

"So Cas." He started. After all, he did never get to know his kid's friends when they where younger, he should now. It was the perfect opportunity, since they where alone.

"Castiel." Was the man's short reply. John thinking back to that first morning where he seemed to give only one word answers.

"That's an odd name." John inquired, looking to the guy.

"My parents where very religious." Castiel answered quickly, as if he'd been asked that often. John had to admit that, that explained a great portion of the man. Many religious parents took it to the extreme. Home schooling children so they didn't come into contact with anything that could make the child question their beliefs. Trying to keep them pure by keeping them sheltered from the world. In John's opinion, that just made the kids bad at dealing with people.

"Right." John said in understanding. "So, Castiel, you working on something?" He asked, gesturing to the large amount of books.

"More or rather satisfying a curiosity." Castiel answered, turning a page in his book.

"On what." John asked, looking at the titles again, trying to figure this guy out. Who actually looks at diseases in the monster world for fun. The only time it's usually brought up is if someone has been infected by werewolves or vampires.

"Diseases." Castiel answered simply, making John frustrated. This guy gave nothing, and he had a feeling he wouldn't get anything from him.

"I don't suppose you could be a bit more talkative?" John asked, looking at Castiel with a pointed look. But before he answered, Castiel turned his head to the side, as if listening to something. He then put his book down and walked out of the room. "Yeah, he's really friendly." John said to himself sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

John stood up, thinking about trying to find Dean's room to check on him when he heard Castiel yell for Sam down another hallway. He ran out of the library to follow the sound, Sam running up with him. John followed him, figuring he'd get there faster. When Sam stopped at an open door, he looked inside to find Dean thrashing around on his bed.

Dean was covered in sweat and he was screaming. Castiel seemed to be trying to talk to him, holding his hands down the best he could, but Dean wasn't hearing it. Dean screamed when they walked in and fought more. Sam took a look and went straight to Dean, pulling his belt out of his jeans and shoving the leather strap into Dean's mouth to prevent him from biting his own tongue. John following his son immediately, attempting to calm Dean and hold him down.

"Cas, what happened?" Sam asked, working to pick Dean up, everyone doing the same.

"He's hallucinating." Castiel answered quickly. "He's got a high fever, and I think he thinks he's in Hell." He finished, lifting Dean's torso up while John took his feet and Sam grabbed around his waist.

"The infirmary, quick." Sam ordered, all of them walking down the hall, having a difficult job of it with Dean thrashing around.

Once in the infirmary, they put Dean down into a bathtub and Sam and Castiel left quickly. John stayed in the room, trying to calm Dean down, but all his words did nothing more but seem to agitate Dean further. He tried to grab Dean's hands to still him, but he pulled them away in surprise. He was burning up. His fever reaching a level that John was seriously worried about his well being. Those levels could cause brain damage.

Sam and Castiel returned quickly, carrying several bags of ice. Castiel told John to start the water, cold only. As if he needed to be told, but he listened and turned the knob while Castiel and Sam poured their bags into the tub over Dean.

"There." Sam said, taking a couple of deep breathes. "That should do it. But what was that?" He asked, turning to Castiel.

"I think it maybe a side-affect. To the withdrawals he is going through." Castiel answered, looking down at Dean.

"I didn't think detoxing from alcohol was that bad." John said, watching his son calmed down under the ice. Castiel turned to stare at him a moment, then looked to Sam who gave him a nod.

"It can be, there have been people who have been so dependent, they did not survive the detox. I believe it will be a bit hard for Dean, but in a few weeks, he should start to feel better." Castiel explained, taking a seat in a chair close by.

"Until then, he's basically sick." Sam asked, looking to Castiel. "Is there any way we can help, like some kind of relief?"

"Aside from what we are already doing. I don't think so. We can try treating the symptoms, but until this is done, just support." Castiel suggested.

"How would you know?" John asked, looking to Castiel. "You some kind of doctor?"

"I do research on many subjects, whenever the mood strikes me. But mostly, I've been through this before." Castiel answered, making himself more comfortable. He obviously had plans of staying for awhile and watching over Dean.

"Well, alright." Sam said, walking towards the door. "Then I need to go to the store and stock up. We need anti-nausea, aspirin, and a bunch of other things. Maybe get some tea, I've seen some that have calming qualities. We also need soup and crackers, Dean's been having trouble eating anything."

"I'll go with you. Help you get the meds. A lot of them have alcohol and I'll look at the labels while you get the food." John volunteered. "It wouldn't help Dean any to have alcohol in the medicines he's taking. May cause him to relapse or overdose." He explained, Sam taking a look at him before shrugging.

"Sounds good. Cas, you going to be okay with him?" Sam asked, turning to Castiel who was watching Dean.

"Yes." Castiel answered, turning back to the ice filled tub.

* * *

><p>It was hot. The stifling, burning heat was compounding onto him, making it difficult to breathe. He felt like a weight had been placed on his chest, and no matter how much he struggled, or lashed out at what it was, it remained constant. The only reprieve from the suffocating heat and pressure, was the extreme pain in his head.<p>

He could feel they where close, and using their knives and pins to dig into his brain. He struggled against the hands that where holding him down. They shouted over his head, but he had no idea what they where saying, he just knew he needed to get out. Before Alistair came by again. He knew that this was just the warm up. The real torture was going to start up soon.

He could feel it coming, the fear alone causing his body to spasm. He felt hot, but his body shivered as he saw the new arrivals. Alistair turning his cold white eyes on Dean, a malicious smile curving his features. He advanced towards Dean, pulling a leather strap out of his pocket and forced the article into his mouth. He felt himself being lifted and dragged by several hands to another room, fighting the whole way. They seemed to be trying to calm him, but he knew it was just an act they did before they cut into him, and he wasn't going to fall for it. He felt them place him into a hard, narrow surface that seemed to cage him in. He could not spread out, no matter how hard he pushed. They where going to make him sit in his own blood while they gutted him. Then the over whelming heat, was replaced by intense and horrifying, freezing cold.

He gasped in lungfuls of air, trying to counter-act the affects of the cold. His mind coming to himself again, his memory caught up with him. He wasn't in Hell, he hadn't been there for years. The tingling sensation made more sense as he noticed he was completely covered in ice. He pulled himself up out of it, the top layer sliding off landing on the floor. He looked around in from of him, seeing no one.

"You where running a fever." He heard a deep voice speak from the seat next to the tub he'd been placed in. He looked to find Castiel sitting there with a rag he had clearly been using to wipe Dean's head.

"So you put me on ice?" Dean asked, looking to his friend. At Castiel's apologetic look, Dean just sighed and started trying to lift himself up, but his hands where slippery and his arms where shaking. He couldn't hold himself up, or muster up the strength to even try.

"Here." Castiel said, getting up and putting an arm around Dean's back and helping him to stand.

Dean clung to the warmth Castiel was giving off as he was helped out of the infirmary and to his room. Happy that he hadn't seen his father or brother in any of the halls on the way. He was a bit embarrassed that he had to use Castiel for support just to walk. But he also welcomed the feeling of having an excuse to touch his friend in a way outside of sparing. It felt good, even if he did want more. At the moment, he was feeling to sick to do anything else anyway.

"The ice was Sam's idea." Castiel told him as he took him into his room and started rifling through his drawers. "Your fever had gone into malaria levels. It was suggested as the best way to cool you off."

Castiel put Dean down on his bed, making him sit up. Once he was sure Dean was stable enough to hold himself up, he reached down and started to un-button the flannel shirt he was wearing. Dean lacking the frame of mind to ask what he was doing. He pushed Dean's shirt over his shoulders, and slowly down his arms. The wet material clinging to his skin, which was tingling from the cold.

Castiel then reached down, tugging at the hem of Dean's undershirt. Dragging it up and over Dean's head as quickly as possible. Dean feeling a fresh chill hit him as his shirt was taken off, put his arms back down and looked at his friend who kept his face neutral. His newly exposed skin prickling as the air hit it. He then felt the drag of a fluffy white towel being draped over his skin. Then he felt Castiel's hands on his shoulders, wiping the towel over his skin, working on drying his chest and shoulders before going to his head to run it through his hair and soak up any excess liquid.

He left the towel on Dean's shoulders when finished to give him some warmth as he lowered himself to his knees. He started divesting Dean of his socks, throwing them into the pile of wet clothing sitting on the floor. He then moved up slightly, and his hands went to Dean's belt.

"Whoa, Cas, don't you think your taking this a bit to far?" Dean asked as he felt Castiel's hands at his crotch. He'd started to understand what Castiel was doing once the towel hit him, but taking off a guy's pants was just too weirdly intimate for someone he wasn't sleeping with.

"Dean, your going to get sick if you keep these clothes on." Castiel explained. "And you're too unsteady on your feet to do it yourself." He finished, taking Dean's belt off in one quick movement, that so did not give Dean new naughty ideas about what the Angel could do in bed. "If you feel uncomfortable, you can take care of your button and pull them down. But you need to be dried and redressed before your fever comes back."

"Fine." Dean said, un-buttoning his jeans and pulling his pants over his hips. Castiel helping to drag them the rest of the way down his legs. Dean was actually glad for his help, the material being wet, it took a bit of effort to get them off. Dean feeling like he would be sick if he bent down to do so himself.

Castiel grabbed another towel he'd carried in, and started drying off his legs. Patting them down with enough respect to not go to close to his groin area, so as not to make him too uncomfortable. Dean very happy about that. He felt like crap, but he did not want to have to explain to his friend why a certain part of his anatomy was suddenly deciding to perk up. When finished with Dean's legs, he looked up at Dean pointedly, then placing the towel over his crotch to give him some cover.

Heaving a great sigh, Dean lifted his hips and pulled down his briefs. The towel slipped slightly down, but Castiel had turned away to get the clothes he'd set out for him. Once he was free of his underwear, he patted himself dry as quickly as possible then placed the towel back over himself. Giving a slight cough, he received a face full of a dry pair of underwear. Castiel was kind enough to keep his back turned while Dean quickly put on the article of clothing.

"So, where are Sam and Dad?" Dean asked to signify he was decent.

"They went into town to do some shopping. Sam mentioned something about being woefully under stocked in chicken soup, oatmeal, hot tea, and over the counter medications." Castiel answered, turning around and holding a shirt up for Dean. Dean grabbed the shirt and pulled it over his head.

"What do we need that stuff for?" Dean asked, looking to his friend who was holding a pair of sweat pants for him to sleep in.

"Something along the lines of you looking a bit green. Which I could understand, considering the fever you where running." Castiel explained, bending down on the floor in front of Dean to help him get his pants on. "Your father decided to go with him to make sure he did not purchase anything with alcohol in it. He seemed to believe that that was a bit too much of a temptation for you." He finished, giving Dean a small smile. Guiding his feet into the leg holes and pulling them up his legs about half-way, letting Dean finish the rest.

"Oh, of course." Dean groaned. "Now would be the time Dad decided he needed to be a good parent." He mumbled. "I'm gonna kill Sam for telling Dad I'm an alcoholic. Now I'm going to be under constant supervision. The guys like a blood hound, always has been." He gripped, rolling his eyes.

"So, we're going with the story that you're detoxing from alcoholism?" Castiel asked, taking a seat at the desk and folding his hands under his chin.

"Apparently." Dean said before groaning and laying down on the bed.

Castiel stood up straight away and rushed to his side. He carefully pulled Dean's covers out from under him, and helped Dean to lay down. Dean felt the warm hand Castiel placed on his forehead, and looked at his friend. Castiel's face was calm, his concerned face had melted away to be replaced by one of relief.

"You don't have a fever. Does your head hurt?" Castiel asked, removing his hand from Dean's head and checking his pulse. "Are you having any anxiety, your pulse is rather quick?" He asked Dean, who controlled himself enough not scough at his friend. His friend, and star of his sexual fantasies who had just undressed him and put him to bed by the way. But no, it's the anxiety. "I would have figured your hallucination would have ended when your fever went down."

"I'm fine, Cas." Dean grit. "Just irritated. My head hurts, and if I do anything but lay down I feel like vomiting. I'll get past it." He said, shooing away Castiel and covering his head with a pillow.

"Very well." Castiel said, getting up and moving to the door. "I'll bring you some soup once Sam and your father have returned."

* * *

><p>"I don't like leaving Dean alone with that guy for too long, Sammy." John cautioned, walking along side his son. Who was picking up items from the shelves as needed. "What if he decides to show his true colors while we're gone and Dean is alone?" He asked, stalling when Sam started laughing.<p>

"Your being paranoid." Sam said, not even looking at John. "If I trust anyone with Dean, it's Cas."

"I don't like him, Sam." John argued. "He secretive, too smart for his own good, and no human is that stiff and calm all the damned time."

"So are you." Sam reasoned. "Look, nobody likes Cas when they first meet him. Dean didn't, I didn't, in fact I was terrified of the guy. I was pretty sure he was ex-CIA." Sam said, stopping in his search for chicken noodle to look at John. "But he grows on you. Honestly, I don't think I've ever met someone as loyal as Cas. Everything he does is to protect us, especially Dean."

"Still don't trust him." John said, looking his son straight in the eye. "I mean, what if he's so loyal because he's some kind of pansy and he takes advantage of Dean while he's out of it." He continued earning another laugh from Sam.

"Heh, Cas take advantage of Dean. That's funny, Cas has so many moral issues, taking advantage of someone, especially Dean, would be on the same ground of him. Oh, I don't know, ending the universe." Sam explained, with a smile on his face. "You know, I don't expect you to trust him, you don't trust anyone. But if it helps you, I'm half convinced Cas is asexual."

"Huh?" John asked, looking dumbfounded.

"He doesn't really look at anyone in that way." Sam explained, going back to the shelves to find the soup. "You know, we should really get you some clothes while your here." He said, retrieving his objective and pushing forward. "We don't really have enough to split as many ways as we are. You've been wearing ours, but I think you need some of your own." He said, walking away from John and to the clothing section. John following him with an uneasy feeling still in his stomach. He wanted to get back as soon as possible to check on Dean.

* * *

><p>Another chapter, woohoo. And so quickly. I haven't really been able to do anything but write lately. Everything else just seems so meaning less and can't get my attention. Bad for me, but great for anybody who reads my stuff.<p>

Hope you all liked and have a good day.


	8. Chapter 8: Secrets and Concerns

Chapter 8: Secrets and Concerns

When they returned to the bunker, laiden down with bags of food, medicine and clothes. Castiel had come out and started helping to unload and put everything away. John leaving to put his clothes in his room. He put them on the bed before going back to help with the groceries. But stopped before getting into the kitchen, if only because he'd never heard Castiel link so many words together at once.

"How's Dean doing?" Sam had asked Castiel as he put a pot on the stove to warm up some soup.

"He's clear again. The ice bath seemed to have done him some good. But he's still very agitated. He mentioned something about a headache, and he was looking nauseous. I think the affects are going to get more severe soon." Castiel stated, John hearing bangs, indicating he was putting things in the cabinet.

"You've been working with him right?" Sam asked, his voice slightly muffled.

"Yes, but I'm afraid the sparing is only doing so much to alleviate the stress, and the symptoms are getting worse." Castiel was answering, the rustling of bags making his voice hard to hear. "It's only going to be so long before he starts to get desperate."

"Ugh." Sam groaned. "Why are we doing this again? Wouldn't locking him in a panic room help, why didn't we do that again."

"Well, for one, he is your brother, and you don't want to do so. You know how difficult that was for you, and Dean." Castiel stated. "Two, that would be very hard to explain to your father after he showed up. Three, Bobby's house burned down and the panic room is no longer available. If he gets too bad, there is always the dungeon. But, I'm working on a way to help this, without coming to that."

"You haven't found anything?" Sam asked, grabbing a spoon and stirring the soup.

"Not yet..." Castiel stalled. "Well, one. But I heavily doubt Dean would be willing to do it. It could be quite painful, for both him and myself."

"Then we won't do it." Sam said, John turning the corner slowly. He could see them now, but they seemed to enthralled in there conversation to notice him.

"It's more of a last resort, I wouldn't think of doing so unless the situation was absolutely dire." Castiel added, continuing to put things away.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that then." Sam sighed. "We need to find a way. We don't want to do anything too dangerous. I know it's hard on Dean, but he'll get through it eventually. Until then, he's better with you around, so stay. Give your support, it's all he really needs. He's actually really happy that your sticking around for once. Though he won't admit it." He finished, putting a hand on Castiel's shoulder, and bending down to look him in the eye.

"I will stay." Castiel said, nodding his head. "I will always stay, for Dean." He said, looking up at Sam, John could see the guy had a sad look on his face.

"Good." Sam said, turning back to the stove. "Because, that's all he really wants."

John turned back down the corner and returned to his room. Where they really talking about Dean's alcoholism. That made no sense. They where talking as if there was something more going on. Where they really keeping things from him, this was his son, he needed to know everything. Especially when it involves one of their well-being.

There was something going on, and they where definitely keeping it from him for a reason. He just needed to know what it was.

* * *

><p>Dean woke up from his dream, looking down at his hands in fear, expecting them to be covered in blood. He could not believe what he'd just seen. He'd killed people, and he liked it, had fun with it. What's more, it was the people most important to him. Slaughtering them with a smile on his face, whistling.<p>

He took a couple shuddering breathes before a wave of nausea hit him and he leaned over the bed. Castiel had the foresight to put a bucket there last night. Wiping his mouth, he took a moment to regain his composure before lifting himself out of bed. He stopped to steady himself, when the room started spinning, holding a hand to his head. He needed a hot shower, and something to eat. The soup Sam had brought him last night was no longer in his system.

He walked down the thankfully empty hall, quietly, to the bathroom. He quickly divested himself of his clothing, and turned on the shower. Waiting for the water to warm up, he took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. Cringing at what he saw staring back at him.

His skin was at least three shades paler then his usual shade. He had dark, purple circles under his eyes, they made him look like he'd been in a fight. He had lost weight, barely noticeable, but he noticed. He hair had lost any semblance of style, or neatness he'd usually kept it in. He actually smiled about that, it reminded him of Castiel's hair.

When he noticed the steam, he stepped into the shower. He sighed as the warm water cascaded down his body. The streams messaging his back, working away the stress he'd built up over the days. He relaxed against the wall, letting the water rush over him as he closed his eyes, thinking.

Castiel had taken care of him yesterday. Dean had to admit, he'd had to work to calm down his body when he'd left. Dean knew that Castiel undressing him had been purely to prevent sickness. He hadn't done it to excite Dean or make him want more, but that was what he'd accomplished. Dean noticed he'd started to grow just remembering it. The way Castiel's hands had slid over his skin, taking off his shirt, how he'd bent down on his knees to pull off his pants.

The way Castiel had taken such care in removing his shirts, purely clinical in objective, but carefully as to not hurt him. His face had stayed calm the entire time, making his objective clear. But then he'd bent down and started to work on his pants. Dean had stopped him, knowing that if he continued, he would have had quite a bit of explaining to do.

He groaned as he came, looking down at his soaped hands, holding his waning member. He gave himself a few more pumps to work through his orgasm, and then finished with his shower. Blushing furiously, he quickly dried off. Had he really just jerked off to a memory of his best friend? Well, it wasn't like he hadn't done so before. In fact, Castiel had been the star to quite a few of his sexual fantasies for the past couple years. He'd long since come to terms that he was not exactly one-hundred percent straight. Course he didn't really stop and examine his feelings around the time. There had been an apocalypse going on, his mind was otherwise occupied.

He quickly redressed and walked to the kitchen, looking around corners, still pretty embarrassed about his actions. He did not want to talk to anybody right at the moment. While he knew there was no way they would know what he'd done, he was still determined to not think about it.

He looked around the kitchen, trying to see if there is anything he could eat that wouldn't make him nauseous. Finding oatmeal, which was easy and plain, he put a pot on to boil the water. Looking through more of the cabinets, he found one filled with medicines for him. Sam had evidently gone all out, with the shear amount of anti-nausea and fever reducers.

He felt a twinge of anger for that. He wouldn't need these precautions if they hadn't decided among themselves that he needed to be locked up. They could very well just let him go on hunts. But no, the chance of him killing an innocent, even though he could control himself despite what they thought, was apparently too high. He looked down at his arm, scrutinizing the mark. It had become red and inflamed, around the edges, it looked like bruises where starting to form. He was going to need to kill someone soon. But how could he? With his bloodhound best friend, nurse Winchester, and drill sergeant father on his case. Before he could come up with some sort of plan, he heard footsteps.

"Morning Dean." John said, walking into the room.

"Sir." Dean answered back curtly, turning to pull down his shirt sleeve and cover the mark. He then grabbed his breakfast and sat down at the table.

"Are you feeling better?" John asked, pouring himself a bowl of cereal.

"Sure." Dean said, before taking in a few spoonfuls of the clumpy liquid. John giving him a raised eyebrow.

"So no." John answered for him, sitting himself done. "Well, I'm glad your out here. I've been meaning to talk to you about this." He said, gesturing at the oatmeal and medicine on the counter.

"Oh, no Dad don't." Dean started to ask. The last thing he wanted was a lecture about alcoholism.

"I just wanted to say that there is no shame in it." John started, trying his best to give his son a comforting voice, but it seemed to come out more gruff.

"Dad, please." Dean begged, covering his face with his hands.

"Look, I know it's a hard life we lead. It's understandable to look for comfort in a bottle. Hell, I've made the same mistakes. I know I did, and you where the one to see most of it. As a kid you did a real good job of keeping your brother away from that." John started, Dean groaning and putting his head down on the table. "But there is a thing called taking it too far. You just gotta know when you've hit that point."

"Oh, like you did, right." Dean said sarcastically. "Cause you did such a good job of keeping it under control. All those night where I cleaned you up. Though of course you wouldn't remember in the morning cause you where too hungover. All those time you drink yourself to the point of passing out, while Sam and I sat in the room, hungry but too afraid to say anything about it. Cause we knew how you would react. You where an angry drunk who didn't want to hear anything from your children." Dean snapped, getting up from his seat and walking away. "Don't bother telling me when you decided it was enough, cause I don't wanna hear it." He shot back walking out of the room.

* * *

><p>John sat there in silence, watching his oldest walk out of the room. Something about what he'd said had it a cord. He was right, he had no right to talk. He'd done so much worse then this, and he'd refused to see the problem. At least Dean was taking responsibility for his actions. Trying to do something about it. How many times had Dean had to take responsibility for his own actions. All those nights he'd drank and forgotten he'd had kids, that they where hungry or needed some attention themselves.<p>

But, John had made the promise to do better by his children. Right now, Dean didn't want to talk, but he might. John was going to make sure he was here when his son was ready to do so. He was going to keep a cool head when they did finally tell him that it wasn't just alcohol that he was detoxing from. John suspected that it might have been harder drugs as well, with as bad as he was yesterday. Dean did experiment when he was younger, though he thought John hadn't known about it. Odds are he'd picked the habit back up. Whatever it was, John wasn't going to let him go through this alone, and he did not trust that new friend of his to do everything. He seemed to distant emotionally to be of much help in the right areas.

* * *

><p>Dean walked to his room and turned on the music, putting his headphones on, he laid down in the bed. He was in a foul mood. Where did his father get off, lecturing him about taking his problems too far. He was the one who couldn't control himself. He might be able to tell that cock-of-bull to Sam. But he knew better. He had been the one to clean his father up, he had been the one to make sure that the duties that he'd skipped out on, laying in a drunken stupor, had been taken care of. He's the one who bared the brunt of his drunken rages while he kept Sam in the other room. His father may have never hit him, but that didn't mean he hadn't had to take a lot of bullshit from him.<p>

It wasn't helping Dean's foul mood that he was under constant surveillance from the others. He needed a break, some time alone to think. Maybe go to a bar and pick up a quick lay or something. That might help his bad mood. Maybe he should find Castiel and get a quick spar. Then sneak out. There was no way they would let him out on his own if he suggested it, they would follow him to make sure he didn't act up too much. Which would just be weird, having his brother tail him if he got lucky.

Of course, if Castiel went with him, it might not be as weird. Of course, then he would be focusing his energy on cornering Castiel in the bathroom. Which actually seemed like a good idea, but he would never go for that. He's had a wife, and he'd slept with that chick that turned around and killed him. Castiel was straight, of that Dean was fairly certain. Of course, then again, he's had his family convinced he was straight.

He'd never explored that part of his sexuality until he was in his senior year of high school. Which he kept exclusively at school, in the boys locker rooms, once everyone else was gone. He was able to pick out the questioning and interested in a second, and he'd gotten quite a bit of fun, but it may have led to his dropping out. He had missed a lot of classes after gym. He'd gotten a bit more experience once Sam had gone to college and his dad had sent him on hunts alone. Then he had no one to answer to except himself, and he'd liked it that way. It was a lot easier picking up guys in gay bars then girls in night clubs. But he had never breathed a word to anyone about this. Especially not his father.

Dean shuttered to think of what would have happened had he come home and told his dad he was going out with a boy and not a girl. John had never been openly homophobic, but he was raised in a different time, and was pretty closed minded in that aspect. But John was quick enough to throw out any hunter who had an interest in men, and keeping them away from their rooms afterwards. But he was friendly with people, so long as they weren't hunters. That never really made sense to Dean, but then again, a lot of John's actions barely made any sense in Dean's and Sam's early teens.

He sat up rolled his neck. The mark burning a hole in his arm, or at least that's what if felt like. He looked down again seeing the red and swollen skin. He needed some kind of relief, and quickly. His hands seemed to have developed a continuous trembling. He watched as they shook, no stopping in sight. He sat up, stopping to regain his composure as the room suddenly spun. "Too fast." He thought to himself, walking to the door. "Now, where did Cas decide to sleep?" He wondered, going down the hall, thinking the Angel would choose a room close to himself, just in case anything happened.

He found him two rooms down. Apparently thinking now was a good time to consider personal space, and give him some room. He leaned on the door way, watching his friend pour over a book who's title he couldn't read. Castiel had shed his customary trench coat, and gone for a pair of regular jeans, a size to big, and one of Dean's t-shirts. Giving him a nice look at the body Castiel had been hiding all these years. Jimmy was a swimmer, and a runner from the looks of him.

"Don't you usually yell at me for doing the exact same thing?" Castiel asked, not looking away from his books, but smiling slightly. Dean coughed, he'd been caught.

"That because it's creepy when you do it." Dean stated easily.

"And it's not when you do it?" Castiel asked, turning to look at Dean with a raised brow.

"Yeah, it is." Dean admitted. "Consider it payback for all those times you've done it." He said smiling. "So." He started, looking at that the book again. "What are you looking at?"

"I'm trying to find another way of removing that mark. Hoping to make things easier on you." Castiel answered, shuffling his notes.

"You mean outside of this crazy detox you got me on?" Dean asked, walking inside Castiel's room. Castiel nodded, looking at Dean. "You find anything so far?"

"Not yet." Castiel answered, turning his head back down to the book.

"That sucks." Dean said, going over to the notes. "But in the mean time. Do you have time for a quick spar? I've got some energy I need to work off." He asked, looking to his friend who stood up and looked him in the eyes.

"Of course." Castiel agreed, closing his books and putting his notes away. "Would you like to go to the gym?" He asked Dean who had not yet made a move to leave.

"Actually, I was kinda hoping that we could go outside." Dean answered, looking at Castiel in what he hoped was a good pass for Sam's puppy eyes. It had been awhile since he'd gone outside.

"Alright." Castiel said, smiling. "There's no harm in that."

* * *

><p>Not my greatest, I'll admit, but it's a bit of set up. Next chapter you'll get some action. I'm hoping that'll make up for it. Until then...<p>

Have a nice day.


	9. Chapter 9: A Slight Mistake

Warning: This chapter contains alcohol abuse, fighting, and a bit of adult content.

* * *

><p>Chapter 9: A Slight Mistake<p>

Dean crept through the halls of the bunker. His movements slow and quiet. He hadn't turned on the lights in order to avoid alerting anyone that he was leaving. As long as he was back before Sam's morning jog, no one would notice. He made quick work of the public area's of the bunker and the stairs. The door was the toughest part, getting it open with barely a noise. A big feet of it's own, seeing how heavy it was.

He'd taken his opportunity earlier, after his work out with Castiel, to move his car out of the garage and push it down the street. He'd told Castiel he needed a couple more minutes to catch his breath and just enjoy being outside. It'd been so long since he'd seen the sun and felt fresh air on his face. Castiel seemed to have understood, and given him some time, luckily it was just enough time he would need to complete his task. He felt like a teenager again, having to sneak out like this. But, unfortunately, he was now living with three blood hounds instead of just his father.

He pushed the car another block before he started it. He wanted to make absolutely sure no one was woken up to stop him. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as he drove down the road to the nearest town. He needed a bar and a good stiff drink more then anything. As he let his baby pick up speed, he rolled down the windows, loving the feeling of the wind in his hair. His stress still present, but pushed back to the edge of his mind. Turning on the music lifted his spirits even more.

He pulled to the side of a road as he found what he was looking for. A bar, with a number of people crowded around the area, looking for a private conversation or a breath of fresh air from the hustle and bustle of the inside. He parked his car a block away and walked back to the place.

He opened the door and walked in, straight up to the bar and parking himself on a stool. He ordered a whiskey and downed the shot quickly. Then the next, and the next. Five shots in, he ordered a beer and told the barkeep to leave the bottle of whiskey. Taking two more shots, he pulled a long drink from his beer before turning around to look at the rest of the occupants.

He had to admit, the talent tonight wasn't much to go on. A few women, who looked like they would make a decent night, but half of them had dates and the other half where sitting at the table together. Probably a girls night out, one of them most likely getting over a break-up. Not a good idea. He turned his attention to the men. There where only a couple of contenders.

Dean was a bit more picky about his men then women. There where a few guys, but one was wrapped around one of the girls in the back corner. One was lying on the counter, too drunk to notice anything around him. No go, he wasn't into that. They would both have to be completely shitfaced for that to work. A guy was sitting in the front corner, but his face was covered by a news paper, so he continued on. There was a guy in a cowboy hat who looked like he'd be good for it, but then he turned on the music and started square dancing by himself. Dean turned back around from that, guy may be hot, but he was weird. Not the good kind either, just goofy.

His eyes caught something hopeful in the back. A young woman with big blue eyes, and dark silky brown hair. She was a bit on the short side, but Dean could see, what she lacked in height she more then made up for in spunk. He gave his best smile and a wink. Just flirting a bit, he liked it when they came to him. Let him know they where just as interested as he was. He had to be careful in these places, never knew what girls would slap him in the face if he made a move.

She continued to flirt with him from across the room, sipping her margarita with a sly smile. He took several more long pulls from his beer and ordered another one before taking another shot of the whiskey. He was just about to invite her over when he felt a pull on his arm turn him around.

He was immediately met with a very red, angry face.

The guy was tall, with dark hair and brown eyes. His face giving off nothing but anger, and intent to hurt. His teeth bared and his breath, stinking of alcohol, coming out in pants as he glared at Dean. Who for his part, faced him calmly.

"Can I help you there buddy?" Dean slurred, looking behind the guy who was surrounded by a few of his friends.

"Your hitting on my girl." Angry-man spoke, moving further into Dean's space.

Dean, for his part, took a step back, holding onto the bar for support. He knew the guy was drunk, and could just be acting out of that. The guy, however, was not happy with Dean's move and took another step closer, closing the gap again.

"Okay, look buddy." Dean said, putting up a hand in a pacifying gesture, stumbling a bit. "I had no idea she was taken." He said. "But you might what to tell her that. Cause she was flirting back, and I'm not one of those people to turn down a lady when she's interested." He explained. Which seemed to be the exact wrong thing to say, Dean found out as a fist slammed across his face.

Dean knew the guy was drunk, and a jealous asshole from the looks of it. But he was also drunk, and hot headed, and cursed by a mark that was screaming for some kind of blood. So naturally, he retaliated. Hitting the guy with his own souped up power.

The guy went flying a good couple of feet into the wall, and Dean found himself surrounded by four of the guys friends. The first guy was on him in a matter of seconds, followed by his buddies. Dean blocking jabs and dodging kicks as effectively as he could in his current state of inebriation.

But when he got a moment to look up, he saw that everyone of the guys teaming up on him had black eyes. The first guy getting up, a smile on his face before it morphed into that of Azazel, eyes turning yellow. They all took a few steps toward him and he pulled out his knife. It wouldn't kill the Demons, but it was made of iron and would at least injure them. Hopefully giving him time to get away.

When they attacked, he started defending himself the best he could. Slashing with his knife and getting a few in the extremities. There was something weird about these Demons. They where backing away after he got them with the knife. He could distantly hear screams around him, and could see people running away. Good, they should run, Demon's where dangerous.

He smiled, the pain in his arm had lessened with the adrenaline and fighting he was doing. He sent a swift kick to the yellow-eyed bastard, knocking him against the wall. He ran up on him, knife poised to kill, before another Demon knocked him out of the way. This Demon was stronger, and quicker. Dean defended himself as the Demon made a move to take the knife out of his hands.

Dean made several swipes with the knife, getting the thing a couple of times, but he just kept coming. Then finally, the Demon managed to get a hold on his hand and pushed him back to the bar. Knife pointing up, out of harms way, no matter how much strength Dean put into it. Gripping Dean by the throat, pushing him down on the bar with his arm. He looked the Demon in the face and became very aware at the eyes staring into his where a familiar blue. But not as gentle as he was used to seeing. They where hard, and filled with worry, and anger.

Castiel slammed Dean's hand down on the edge of the bar, knocking the knife free. He stooped down to pick it up, then grabbed Dean by his bicep and marched him out of the bar. He walked him down the street towards the car, but before he reached his destination, he slammed Dean against the brick of one of the buildings.

"What the Hell, Dean?" Castiel screamed at him. Moving himself right up into his face.

"Back off, Cas." Dean shouted back, pushing Cas away. He was too drunk to deal with the guy.

"Not until you tell me what you where thinking." Castiel argued, slamming Dean against the wall again.

"They where Demon's Cas. What was I supposed to do?" Dean defended himself, trying to push off the wall. But Castiel's arm held firm and wouldn't let him move.

"No they weren't, Dean. They where humans." Castiel corrected. "You're hallucinating again." He told him, looking him in the eyes. Dean seeing nothing but sincerity and worry in his eyes. "Why did you leave the bunker?"

"I needed a drink." Dean answered, letting his voice raise. "I needed some time alone, not under the scrutiny of you and the rest of my family."

"Then you could have said something to me." Castiel shot back. "But getting into a fight..." Castiel pointing in the direction of the bar, letting out a deep breath to calm himself. "You know that's a bad idea. You know what could happen. You almost killed those guys Dean. You just set yourself back. Do you need to hurt somebody that bad?" Castiel asked. Then put the knife back in Dean's hand and opening his arms wide. "Cause if that's the case, do it. Kill me. Not some man in the bar that was too drunk to know better. I've made enough mistakes I deserve it." Castiel offered, raising his chin to expose his throat.

"I'm not gonna kill you Cas." Dean groaned, trying to force the knife back into Castiel's hands. But Castiel pushed the knife back to him.

"Go ahead, Dean. Do it. You where so willing to do it earlier. What's the difference between him and me?" Castiel encouraged, moving Dean's hand to his up, just under his chin, knife flush against his flesh.

Dean didn't know what made him do it. Whether it was the alcohol, or the anger and energy that was running through his veins. But something in him made him drop the knife and grab hold of Castiel shirt to pull him forward. Covering Castiel's mouth with his own in a sloppy, drunken kiss. Using his free hand to hold Castiel's head to his face.

Castiel for his part, didn't respond for a couple of moments. Caught by surprise, eyes wide open. But after the initial shock wore off, Dean felt him melt into him. Felt him responding with just as much passion as he was giving him. However, he could feel Castiel start to pull away before he could deepen it.

Castiel pulled away with a look of confusion, his face calculating. He held the keys to Dean's baby in his hand, using Dean's distraction to take them out of his pocket, grabbing Dean's arm, he started leading him to the car again. Making Dean stand to the side, while opening the back door.

"We'll talk about this in the morning." Castiel said, helping Dean into the back seat. He closed the door, and moved himself into the front seat to start up the car.

* * *

><p>John was awoken by the loud rumble of the Impala. Realizing that meant they had a jail-break, he bolted out of bed and ran down the hall to the garage. He ran into Sam, who had apparently been awoken as well.<p>

"You heard that?" Sam asked, looking at his father.

"Yeah." John said, continuing down the hall. "I think Dean might be trying to sneak out. Do we have another working car?"

"No." Sam answered, pulling a shirt over his head. "We don't. Dean's been working on them so we can sell them later. But times been short and we haven't had a chance of finding the right parts."

"Great." John snapped sarcastically. "So he just drove away the only working car we have." John said, getting to the garage door. But before he could open it to look, it opened form the inside.

There stood a very drunk Dean, being supported by a harassed looking Castiel. Dean was hanging over his shoulders, smelling heavily of whiskey. Castiel pushed forward through the door, dragging Dean along with him. He didn't let up when Dean seemed to trip, keeping him up with a surprising amount of strength for a guy so skinny.

"Cas?" Sam asked, watching him drag Dean across the room.

"Don't worry. Everything is fine. I managed to stop him before too much damage had been caused." Castiel answered, not breaking his gate.

"Everything is super." Dean added, with a big smile on his face as he turned around to face Sam. "Absolutely fucking wonderful." He said, head sinking down and hanging limply form his shoulders.

"I just going to put him to bed." Castiel explained, giving Dean a nudge to make him move again.

Dean continued to mumble un-recognizably as he was walked down the hall. John watched them walk out of sight. Then turned to his son, who was watching them as well, before shrugging and walking back to his room.

"You don't seem to concerned about this." John asked, following his son back.

"That's because I actually expected this a lot sooner then it happened." Sam answered. "Dean has always had impulse control issues, I'm surprised it took this long."

"Shouldn't we be doing something about his set back? I mean, he's drunk, he's going back on his rehab." John asked.

"Nah." Sam said, reaching his door. "I'm too tired right now, and Cas has got him. He'll take care of him."

"You trust him that much?" John asked again. He didn't like the idea of Castiel alone with his drunk son.

"Yeah, Cas has always been really good about taking care of Dean when he needed it. At least when he was around. Trust me, Dean's in good hands." Sam said, opening the door to his room and walking in.

John however, did not trust Castiel as much as his sons did. He never trust any hunters around his children. Especially if they gave him the same kind of feeling that Castiel did. That feeling that they where not one hundred percent what they say they where. Most hunters where not exactly the most trustworthy of people, and some of them where also rather unsavory characters.

He'd never particularly had anything against homosexuals. But he was very aware that his kids, Dean in particular, where very pretty and attractive. Taking after his mother in more ways then just his caring personality. John had spent a majority of Dean's early teens keeping him away from other hunters, knowing that if he left them alone he might have been taken advantage of. Not all hunters had the same morality as he or Bobby. He avoided working with them when he could, but sometimes, he just couldn't help it. So he had to leave the boys with someone, or at hotel rooms with strict instructions to not let anyone in.

He found Dean's room down the opposite hall as Sam's and his own. He could hear voices from inside, but couldn't make out what they where saying. He walked closer to the room and found the door open a crack. What he found put his mind a ease a touch.

Dean was sitting in the bed completely covered. The blankets drawn up to his chin. Castiel placing a large trash can next to the bed, and a large glass of water on the table next to his bed. John could see Castiel opening a bottle of aspirin and laying them down on the table next to the water.

"Go to sleep, Dean." He heard Castiel tell his son before walking to the door.

John quickly slid down the hall to avoid being caught. He rounded the corner and then turned his head to watch as Castiel exited the room. He watched as he walked down the hall to another room a couple doors down from Dean, and walked in.

* * *

><p>Dean knew he wasn't going to remember this night very well. But he was sure if he was going to remember anything, it would be these three things.<p>

One: Castiel was extremely patient, and not to be distracted while driving. Because it seems, Dean was an angry drunk, but at the same time, he was all hands. During the entire ride back to the bunker, Dean would do his best to seduce Castiel into pulling over. Touching everywhere he could reach, even climbing halfway over the seat to get to what he could. While yelling at him for having a stick up his ass. Castiel, for his part, continued to drive. Staring ahead as if nothing was bothering him.

Two: He was in for a bad morning. Not only was he drunk, his stomach already promising a terrible hangover in the morning. But he was pretty sure, on the way to his room, he had passed his father and brother in the hall. He was too out of it to read their facial expressions or even really care, but he was fairly certain he was in for another 'over doing it' speech from his father.

Three: Eager as Castiel was to kiss him back at the bar, that did not mean he was going to jump into bed with him in his current state.

He vaguely understood Castiel mentioning something about getting him to bed, and he let Castiel drag him into his room. He was dropped unceremoniously onto his bed by his friend, who then bent down to get his shoes off. Dean, however started thinking about the last time they where in this situation, and how that encounter had left him very unsatisfied.

He grabbed hold of Castiel's shirt and dragged him up from the ground, locking his lips with his own. Castiel had let out a grunt in surprise, then softened into the kiss. Dean taking the opportunity to drag him up further. Laying down, and bringing his friend with him, positioning him on top of himself, holding Castiel in place at his waist. Dean's groin grinding up into Castiel's with a desperate need.

He moaned into Castiel's mouth, doing his best to get the friction that he wanted. Castiel however, had other ideas and he pulled himself away. He rolled off the bed, gracefully, and ran out of the room. Dean groaned when he saw that he was alone, and covered his face with his hands.

He sat in silence in his room, berating himself for his rash actions. Why he had tried that then he had no idea. But he knew, by the reaction it received, that it was a bad idea. Castiel was his friend, he would like it to be more. But, no doubt, Castiel would want to talk it out. Get all the facts and details first. Would want to know if this was just a fling, or if it meant something more.

Which made Dean ask himself that question. He liked Castiel, a lot. He was nice, and Dean was secure enough to admit, hot as Hell. But, did he just want Castiel for sex. No, he didn't. He owed the guy more then that. He cared for him more then that as well. If Castiel was interested, he just couldn't use him like that, or hurt him.

He felt his blanket being dragged out from under him, and thrown over his body. He pulled his hands away from his face to find Castiel standing above him. His face held no emotion, but Dean could guess he was keeping it that way to stave off any advances Dean gave him.

"'m sorry Cas." Dean apologized, looking up at his friend, who turned his head to face him.

"Your drunk." Castiel said, running his hands over Dean's face. "We can talk about this in the morning." He said, moving Dean's trash can to the side of the bed. "Go to sleep, Dean."

Dean watched Castiel walk to the other side of the room and turn off the light. He then covered his head with his blanket. He was not going to have a good morning in a few hours. Hopefully, he would sleep late enough that they would talk to him and he wouldn't have to be there.

* * *

><p>Okay, another one. Just one day after the last, but I already have a few more chapters written. Though this may be the last for a week, I'm not sure. What I am sure of is that this thing is going to keep kicking me in the but until I'm done with it. Considering I can't seem to settle down and read anything of my own.<p>

Oh, well. Hope you liked it.


	10. Chapter 10: Confession

Chapter 10: Confession

John woke up bright and early the next morning. Stretching, he rose out of bed, all his fifty-plus years making themselves known in his back. He didn't know why he still felt it, but whatever had brought him back had made a note to make him just as he was when he died. He should probably be looking into that. But he was too concerned about his son. So long as nothing came to try and collect on whatever favor it was convinced John owed it, he was going to take care of his kids.

He walked out to the kitchen, finding it empty. He decided, maybe it would be good for him to make breakfast. Dean normally did the cooking, every so often Sam would take care of it. Castiel was good, mostly for cereal and coffee. John was under the impression the guy couldn't use any modern devices, and needed supervision when handling any machinery. But John could handle his own in the kitchen. He did after all, raise two boys. Not all their meals where cereal.

Pulling out the ingredients for omelets, he started chopping up the vegetables. He knew Sam liked vegetables, Dean wasn't big on them but would eat, if he ate at all. He liked them every so often, and Castiel would just have to make due with whatever. Stirring the eggs, he heard a loud groan come from the hall way Dean's room was down.

"Sounds like somebody's up." Sam said, walking into the room. Hair wet from his morning shower. Smirk playing across his face at his brother's misfortune.

They heard another groan, and the flush of a toilet. Followed by a pale, six foot man walking out of the hallway. His face made even paler by the black eye he was sporting, and the cut above his cheek. He was holding his head, his eyes closed to block out the light.

"Morning Dean." Sam said, making his voice louder then necessary, smiling up at his brother. Dean stumbling back from the noise, and into one of the support beams in the living area.

"You sleep well?" John asked, looking to his son as well, making his voice exceptionally chipper. The only response he received was the middle finger. Dean's aim, however, was off, and he seemed to just be flipping off the table. "Elegant." He shot back smartly.

"Just, be quiet, please." Dean pleaded, sitting himself in a chair at the table and messaging his head.

"Yes, because that's exactly what you need?" John said, sitting a cup of coffee on the table in front of his oldest. "Peace and quiet to get over your bender from last night." John accused, earning a loud groan from Dean.

"Not right now." Dean moaned, grabbing the coffee and putting the mug to his head, sighing at the warmth. John rolled his eyes, and went back to the stove.

"Come on Dean. We had a deal." Sam said, looking to his brother with his big, pleading puppy eyes. "You said you where going to stop."

"Not right now, Sammy." Dean said, looking at his brother. He knew what Sam's problem really was, but they definitely couldn't discuss that in front of their father.

"Well, at least Cas was nice enough to go and get you." Sam said, turning to a book he was holding. "I was actually very impressed by how quickly he did so." He said, getting another long and loud groan from Dean in shame. Sam watched him for a minute, but then returned to his book.

"Yeah, where is he anyway?" John asked, scooping an omelet onto a plate and handing it to Sam, who thanked him.

"Probably avoiding me." Dean sulked, laying his head on the table. "Pissed off as Hell in his room." He mumbled, face down.

John looked at his son, sulking on the table. He wondered why he cared if Castiel was mad at him. Dean never cared what anyone thought of him, unless it was Sam or himself. Maybe Dean did make an actual friend, and John was happy for him. He did always worry about his oldest when they moved from school to school. Sam was always the more sociable, even if Dean was the one he was constantly chasing out of closets and having to hunt down in the middle of the night.

He did, at least, seem to have grown up a bit. Though John wasn't one to jump to conclusions, despite what his boys may say. John knew Dean was definitely older, and he acted like it. The Dean he knew, would probably be crawling up the walls, being trapped in this place. Going out to the local hangouts and hitting on as many girls as he could. Probably spending the night with them, then never calling them again. At least he's grown out of most bad habits.

"And why would he be pissed at you Dean?" Sam asked, voice calm allowing nothing to get past, but polite curiosity.

"Don't Sam, just...Don't" Dean said, shoving a hand in his brother's direction.

"Oh, you know." They heard a deep voice say from the stairs. "Lying to me, sneaking out, getting into a fight I had to pull him away from." Castiel answered, coming down the steps. "Don't worry." He said, looking to Sam. "I stopped it before anything bad happened."

"The fight wasn't bad enough?" John asked, setting a plate in front of Dean, who turned even paler and got up from the table.

"Did you take the aspirin I left you?" Castiel asked, watching Dean leave the room. He did not get a response. Shrugging, he got up and started putting together his own omelet, gesturing for John to have a seat once he'd finished his own.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" John asked skeptically.

"In theory." Castiel said, cracking a couple of eggs. Sam watching in interest.

"So, how'd you know he left?" Sam asked Castiel who started stirring his eggs. "I didn't know anything until I heard you guys getting back."

"It was pretty easy to figure out when he asked to go outside for a spar session. Even more obvious when he asked to be out there alone." Castiel answered, adding what he wanted to his omelet and sprinkling it with cheese.

"You let him?" John asked, looking pointedly at Castiel. The guy should have known better. Especially if he was Dean's friend. Anyone who knew the boy would know he was prone to sneaking out when he thought it was everyone else who was unreasonable.

"I let him think he was out there alone." Was Castiel's curt reply. "I watched him push the car a few blocks away."

"Then you just let him go?" Sam asked, watching Castiel's expression carefully.

"Of course not. I hid in the backseat, then followed him." Castiel answered. "I figured I would give him a chance to have some freedom, since that was what he wanted. But then he started drinking, and then the fight started." He finished, setting down his plate and taking a piece out of his eggs, wincing at the flavor.

"Why didn't you stop him when he started drinking?" John asked, looking at Castiel accusingly.

"Because he's an adult who can make his own decisions." Castiel answered simply. "He knew the mistake he was making, and he was going to learn the consequences of his actions. Besides, he wouldn't have stopped if I told him to. Dean doesn't listen very well."

"That's true, he probably would have knocked Cas out when he tried to stop him. Then tried to drive back drunk." Sam admitted, as Castiel finished his food and took his plate to the sink. "Cas was making sure, while Dean may have been making mistakes, he was safe and would have made it home."

"Right." John said disbelievingly. He was glad the guy was there to get Dean home, but he should have stopped Dean from making any mistakes in the first place. At the moment, Dean couldn't help his actions and needed someone to watch him. That's why he was staying in the bunker, taking out any outside influence that might prompt him to drink. "Where are you going?" He asked, watching Castiel walk out of the room.

"To check on Dean, then research." Castiel answered, walking out of the room.

* * *

><p>Dean laid in his bed, lights off, and completely silent. His head was killing him, and his father setting down that plate of egg pancake, covered in vegetables did not help. The smell had made him sick, and then everybody insisted on talking to him. In their very loud voices, at that.<p>

Then, seeing Castiel had just made him spiral down into a pit of shame so severe he just had to get out of there. Sure, it was the cowards way out, but he did not want to talk to the guy he'd tried to sleep with the night before in a drunken stupor.

Unfortunately for him, Castiel had chosen that moment to come into his room.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, walking into the room. Dean's response was to cover his face with a pillow. "How are you feeling?" He asked, sitting down in the chair at his desk.

"Like crap." Dean mumbled through the pillow over his head. Luckily, he'd left enough of the pillow off his face that some air could get through. So there was no hurry to take it off in fear of suffocation.

"Well, that is to be expected." Castiel suggested, pulling the chair closer to Dean's bed. "You did drink your weight in alcohol last night." He said with a slight smirk. "Hold on a moment." He said, getting up and leaving the room. He returned a few moments later, and pulled the pillow away from Dean's face, putting it under his head. Dean felt a very cold rag placed on his forehead, and a cold bag placed under his neck. "Better?" He asked.

"Very." Dean answered. The coldness seemed to do wonders for his headache and nausea. He could breath again, and noticed a bowl of ice water on his nightstand. That was good, because the rag was going to get warm pretty soon. "Thanks." He said, turning to Castiel and seeing his blue crinkled in a small smile.

Castiel then straightened himself in the chair, and his smile turned into a calculating stare. Dean knew what was coming. He'd be lying if he wasn't expecting it, he'd made quite the spectacle of himself last night. At least from what he remembered of it.

"Are we going to talk about last night?" Castiel asked, looking to his friend. Dean was tempted to go with the excuse that he didn't remember, but he knew Castiel would know better. The guy had always been able to read right through him.

"I was kind of hoping we could avoid it." Dean said, sending a small smile to Castiel in return. "You know, skip over that whole 'awkward conversation' thing."

"That's not an option, Dean." Castiel stated, looking at his friend sternly.

"I know." Dean said, closing his eyes as Castiel removed the rag and dunked it back into the ice water. "You want to know what that was. But I had to try." He attempted another smile as Castiel replaced the clothe over his head.

"I would like to know." Castiel admitted, sitting back down. "But if your not feeling up to it at the moment, I would understand."

"No." Dean said, cringing when his eyes fell on the light. Castiel noticing and turning it off. "Best to get it out of the way, while I'm too messed up to stop myself. Chances are, I won't remember the unpleasant parts anyway. Which is a plus." He half-joked.

Castiel just looked at him, waiting for an answer. He did not seem to be any kind of a rush. Perfectly content to sit in the chair until Dean got up the nerve to tell him the truth. Dean took several deep breaths, closing his eyes for a few moments. He felt like crap, but the prospect of getting out of this hangover with nothing weighing on his mind, except the usual, was very appealing.

"What do you want me to say?" Dean asked, looking to the ceiling.

"The truth is usually the best option, and when you get to the end, stop." Castiel offered with a smirk. "It's not like you're allergic to straight answers or anything?" He added, sending Dean a meaningful look. Dean's laugh turned into a pained grimace as his head gave a throb. He held it for a moment, working out in his head what he wanted to say. Before re-positioning himself on the bed, just moving his back and arms a bit. Trying his best not to disturb the cold clothe on his head, or the ice pack under his neck.

"Well, what can I say?" Dean started, looking at Castiel in his peripheral vision. He might as well get everything out in the air. "Yes, I like you, and I don't mean in the 'Your my friend' kinda way. I want to have something more with you. I'm happier when your around, and I shudder to think what would happen to me if I lost you to. It took awhile, but your very important to me, and it doesn't help that you are fucking hot." He finished, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

Dean watched Castiel, who just stared at him. Seemingly lost in thought for a moment. At least Dean hoped he was lost in thought. He hoped to the absent God that was Castiel's father, that he wasn't trying to find a way of letting him down easy. He'd given that speech enough himself, that he knew as much as people tried to be nice, it was never easy.

"So this is just an attraction to my body?" Castiel asked.

"Fuck no." Dean answered quickly. "Your my friend, and I think more of you then that. If it where just that, I would have tried something ages ago." He cleared, keeping his eye on Castiel.

"So your attracted to me, but at the same time. You want more out of this than just sex?" Castiel clarified, leaning forward to take the rag off again and dunking it into the ice water.

"Yeah, kinda." Dean answered, watching Castiel ring out the rag before replacing it on his head. "Last night, I was drunk and I wasn't thinking. But at the same time they call it liquid courage, so I might have just been able to get my head out of my ass long enough to show you what's been going on in there." He thought out loud, continuing to stare at the ceiling. "But your straight, so why bother." He finished, refusing to look at Castiel before he was about to turn him down.

"Who said I was straight?" Castiel asked, getting up and moving to Dean's bed, sitting down beside Dean. "All human's are beautiful. Their genitals really have nothing to do with my attraction. It just happened to be women who hit on me at the time." He said, leaning down to look Dean in the eyes. "But your soul is one of the most beautiful I've ever seen. I've felt that way since I first laid eyes on you in Hell." He finished, smiling softly at Dean.

"Are you saying you like me to?" Dean asked, wishing Castiel would give him a straight answer and just kiss him or something. He was so close.

"I do." Castiel answered, leaning closer to Dean with a smug smile, before his face hardened. "But not when your drunk and trying to kill people." He lectured, pulling away and standing up. "And I really don't appreciate you lying to me to sneak out. Causing such a situation, your above that."

"I'm really not." Dean joked, raising his eye-brows at Castiel. "Does that mean no fun until I'm free of this curse?" Dean pouted watching Castiel leave the room.

"I never said that." Was the yelled reply from the hall.

Dean smiled, sure he felt like crap. But it was bound to get better, provided he didn't screw anything up. Castiel had not exactly turned him down. He just said he didn't want to be lied to, didn't want Dean drunk, and didn't want Dean trying to kill people. That could go several ways. After all, years of knowing Castiel had let Dean know one thing. Most of his answers where open to interpretation.

* * *

><p>It was a few hours later that Dean was woken up by his brother walking into the room. He lifted his head slightly, the rag no longer cold, just damp. His ice-pack melted, leaving a very unpleasant wetness on his neck, back and pillow. He cringed when Sam turned on the light, the sudden brightness hurting his eyes and head.<p>

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked unsympathetically, walking up to the bed and sitting down in Castiel vacated seat. Handing him a large glass of water.

"Like I was just bulldozed by a windigo." Dean said, sitting up to take the water and drinking a small sip. The little bit of moisture soothing his throat. It was then he noticed the two aspirin that Castiel had put on his nightstand. He snatched them up and put them in his mouth before taking a drink to swallow them down. "But a bit better then I felt earlier. Then I had felt like I'd been steamrolled or eaten alive."

"Well that's an improvement." Sam said, looking at his brother expectantly. Dean tried to ignore it, but his face started burning from that side as if Sam had laser vision and focused it on him.

"What?" He asked, avoiding his brother's eyes. He knew what Sam wanted to talk about, but damned if he was going to just offer the information up.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened last night?" Sam asked, watching Dean's reaction. He was going to talk to his brother, and it had been a nightmare trying to find a moment when he could without his father trying to follow him. He'd managed to distract John with some research books he'd found on possible things that could have brought him back.

"I needed out." Dean admitted with a sigh in resignation. "Just for a night. A few hours without you or Dad or Cas breathing down my neck. I thought I'd go out, have a few drinks, and maybe find a chick." He explained, looking Sam in the eyes. "But a few drinks turned into almost a whole bottle of whiskey, and the chick had a very jealous boyfriend."

"Really, that's what was going on?" Sam asked, looking at his brother with a raised brow. When Dean declined to answer, he sighed. "Well, at least Cas was able to guess what you where doing, and could pull you out before you seriously injured anyone." He added, a wave of guilt shooting through Dean. Castiel had not told them about_ that_. Dean didn't know whether to be thankful or worried.

"Yeah, I'm still trying to figure out how he did that." Dean said, to break the silence and distract from his guilt. He was not about to tell Sam about what he'd done when Cas had shown his face. He was sure his brother would be supportive, but at the same time, Sam is always suspicious of Castiel. He didn't want it to become an issue before anything actually happened.

"Apparently, Cas could see through your 'I need to go outside for some fresh are' ploy, and snuck into the car before you left." Sam explained, with a joking smile on his face. "You're not as smooth as you seem to think you are."

Dean had to stop and think about that bit of realization. Had he really been in such a hurry to not look in the back seat before he left? Had he really not noticed when he was followed either? He had to have been so desperate to get out, he didn't think to look over his shoulder when he was walking to the bar.

Then a memory struck Dean. He was looking at the people, trying to find out if there was anyone he would like to go home with. There was a guy in the corner, reading a news paper, with a tuft of black hair rising above the paper. But Dean had rid him off at just someone who worked the late shift and no one of interest. Purely because he couldn't see his face.

"Of course." Dean whispered to himself, mentally kicking himself for not thinking more of that guy. It could have been a Demon, or something just as deadly. He was lucky it was Castiel.

"What?" Sam asked, getting up from the chair he was sitting on.

"Nothing." Dean answered quickly. He did not need to know just how bad he had been last night. How low his defenses had been.

"Okay." Sam said skeptically. "Are you hungry?" He asked, walking to the door.

"I'm not an invalid Sam. I can make my own food." Dean snapped. He was so tired of everybody taking care of him. "I just need a shower first." He added, and to prove a point, he stood up and started to collect his clothes.

"Alright." Sam agreed, holding his hands up and walking out of the room.

* * *

><p>There you go, another chapter. Hope you liked, and I will say that the next will be up again at some point this weekend.<p>

Thank you for reading my ramblings, and horrible writing, have a nice day.


	11. Chapter 11: Unnoticed Symptoms

Chapter 11: Unnoticed Symptoms

One week later found things getting worse for Dean. John could tell. The days getting harder and harder on his son. Noticing a little things here and there that told him his oldest was not as well as he said he was.

After the night Dean had sneaked out of the bunker, and come back draped over his friend in a completely drunken episode, he'd made a point of watching his son more. But that was doing nothing more then showing him just why he would never want to have to go through alcohol withdrawals anytime soon. He'd heard this stuff was always hard to get through, he had just never seen it.

For started, Dean was prone to mood swings. He could be nice and laughing one moment, and then quiet and moody the next. He would be talking to his son, and it would feel like he was talking to the Dean he knew. The little boy that idolized him since he was old enough to walk. Then he would get quiet and argumentative. Confrontational with anything John said, which would cause John to yell back. The man was trying, but he was never known for having an even temper. It didn't help that Dean's anger could go from irritation to extreme rage in the matter of two seconds.

To John, it seemed like the roles had reversed between his children. Dean was the moody and defensive one. While Sam was the one to keep the peace. When Sam would get mad at John or Dean, he would do his best to take his time and explain what the problem was. John was doing his best to listen, and he was having an easier time with Sam's patient approach, then Dean's explosive one. It was like walking on egg-shells and glass at the same time.

Secondly, Dean was apparently having other issues. From his loss of appetite, which John knew was a bad sign. Since he was a child, Dean would eat anything put in front of him, provided there was enough for Sam as well. To the fevers that caused hallucinations. John not knowing what to do with that. He'd never had a kid so sick they where seeing things that couldn't be explained by supernatural means.

One minute, Dean would be fine, sitting there quietly. Then he would become violent. Turning over tables, and attacking lamps or furniture screaming about Demons. Sometimes even attacking one of them. Terrifying John even more when Dean seemed to think he was the Demon they had hunted through most of his childhood. He didn't want to hurt his son, but he had to keep himself from getting hurt as well. Otherwise he knew Dean was going to bury himself under a pile of guilt so extreme, it would take an entire year to get him out of it. In the end, he'd managed to disarm Dean, and lock him in his bedroom until he'd calmed down. Dean had sulked for a while after that, and apologized. But John couldn't shake the feeling that Dean believed he'd been treated like a child.

He also noticed that Dean had developed a bad case of shaking. He noticed it most at meals. Dean would be eating with them, then he would drop his fork or cup. Swearing, Dean would start to clean up his mess with the help of Sam or Castiel. All of them doing their best to not mention it or bring attention to it. He noticed when Dean would be reading and the book would be shaking so bad he wondered how the words weren't blurring in his vision.

In fact the only time Dean didn't seem to be shaking, was when he was doing some kind of exercise. Either running, or going through fighting drills. There he seemed to be fine. Even joking around with whoever he was sparing with.

But throughout all this, John noticed that Dean seemed to become increasingly dependent on his friend. Castiel had surprised John with how patient he seemed to be every time Dean lost control. He would sit quietly while Dean raged at him. He would listen when Dean needed someone to talk to. John walking on several of their conversations, but never hearing anything. They seemed to stop as soon as he entered the room, or switch the subject.

When Dean would have an hallucination, Castiel would grab him by the face and make him calm down by looking him in the eye. All while getting the crap beat out of him. But John did have to admire the guys tolerance for pain. He rarely flinched, and even went with Dean into the gym for a sparing session. Dean said it helped to calm him down. Dean even going so far as to drag Castiel away from whatever he was doing for a quick spar when he was about to have an anxiety attack or just needing some form of exercise.

John really worried about that. Dean seemed to be depending more on Castiel then him or Sam. Which he thought was just wrong. Your family are the ones that are supposed to be there for you, and they where. But Dean seemed to want to talk to Castiel, in John's opinion a complete stranger, more then he did anyone else.

"It's natural to gravitate to someone when your in Dean's situation." Sam had suggested when John had told him how he thought about it. "Sometimes it's easier when it's not family. Your not as worried about letting them down, or looking stupid or weak." He explained.

John supposed that made sense. He also thought maybe he was being a bit hard on Castiel. Sure he didn't know him very well. But he'd also hadn't been around for the past ten years, and Castiel had been working with his kids for at least half that time. They did know him quite a bit more, had already had the issues of not knowing his true intentions. John was paranoid of him because he was new, to him he'd just popped up out of nowhere and he was expected to trust him. But Dean and Sam had known him for years, gotten to know him. Who knows how long it was before they actually trusted him as much as Dean seemed to.

John supposed he could trust him more if he could just talk to the guy. But every conversation with him would give him a headache and make him unbelievably angry. John understood, Castiel was focusing more on Dean because of the current situation. He said it himself, he was here for moral support, for Dean. Every time he tried to talk to the guy, the conversations had been short, cut off by some emergency or something. But when they did talk, Castiel's answers where short, to the point. He didn't mince his words, and did not seem to understand sarcasm unless it was obvious. He also took things quite literally, and forgot that other people had emotions and tempers that he could very easily set off.

At first, John thought Castiel was just pulling his leg. Acting that way on purpose to tick him off. Nobody could be that weird, John had thought. But then he started to notice, that yes, someone could. He wasn't just speaking like that to John, he did it to Sam as well, and even Dean. Though with Dean, he seemed to remove the stick just a bit. John swore, he saw the guy smile once.

But his lack of social skills, no sense of humor, and literal thinking made John wonder just what kind of upbringing the guy had had. He'd mentioned that his parents where very religious, and John had found the name Castiel in one of the books in the library. Though why anybody would name their child after a lesser known Angel of Thursday, he had no idea. But that couldn't have been the only thing making him so uptight. Maybe the guy was trained by the FBI or CIA, or Hell, even Interpol. He had to have been in one of those for a time. If nothing else, his fighting proved that. He'd had to have had some intensive training in order to take Dean down as quickly as he'd done in some of their sparing sessions.

He looked over at Castiel, who was sitting in the library with him. Mindlessly turning the pages of yet another book he was reading. John didn't understand how he could read as much as he did. Let alone how he read half the languages in those books, most of them seemed to be written in dead or extinct languages. Whatever the guy was researching, he was going at it with a one-minded determinism that you didn't see in too many people. Back straight, head kept stiff, and eyes never leaving the pages except to grab another book.

"Do you need something?" Castiel had asked, never taking his eyes away from the apparently fascinating text he was looking over. He must have been staring and the guy could feel it. His patience seemed to be spent on Dean, and everyone else could deal with it.

"Nothing." John said quickly, he hated being caught. But then he thought of something. Looking at Castiel again, he asked. "So, how did you get Dean out of Hell?" He asked, internally smiling in triumph when he saw the surprised look Castiel had when he asked that question. It was good to see he could be caught off guard, he'd been way too calm for way to long.

Castiel did not answer right away, he seemed to be thinking over his answer. Slowly saving his place in his book to buy himself some time. He closed his book, took a moment to memorize the title before putting it to the side and looking John in the eye.

"A spell." He answered simply, looking John straight in the eye.

"A spell?" John asked skeptically. "It was really that easy?" He asked, not believing that for moment.

"No, it was not." Castiel answered, seemingly offended. "The spell was a difficult one to complete for one. A lot of the ingredients are rare, not exactly pleasant to get hold of. You needed bones, so you had to dig up graves. Then there was the internal organs of monsters, and blood of animals. Add the numerous illegal plants I had to find and carry. It was not easy, and that was just the first step." Castiel told him with a smug smile on his face. "The next step involved me going into Hell itself and finding Dean's soul. Now, I don't know if your aware, but he was on the racks and one of the most guarded there. It took a lot to get to him. Then I had to get us out of Hell, and put his body back together. Which involved another unpleasant spell and quite a bit of power. I wouldn't recommend it." He finished. He may have changed a few details, but it was the gist of what he'd done.

John listened as Castiel talked, it was by far the most he'd said in one sitting since John had met him. He had to admit, he'd been curious as to how to get someone out of Hell, and he was surprised Castiel had gone through all that without even knowing Dean. But Sam had said he'd needed them to help him with the Apocalypse. John wondered if he was the only one who knew about it. It would definitely coax a guy into doing something stupid to try and stop it, or at least get some help. But something still didn't seem quite right.

"How'd you come across a spell that powerful? Are you some kind of a witch?" John asked, he did not have a tolerance for witches. Regardless of intentions, they still sold there soul to Demons for their powers, and where not to be trusted.

"No, I read it in a book." Castiel answered easily, turning back to his book. Letting John know, in his own way, that the conversation was over.

John decided it wasn't a good idea to push at the moment. He didn't know the guy well enough, and as far as he could tell. The guy was going to stay no matter what, and he did not want to have to deal with that awkwardness. Not at the moment at least.

He looked back down at the book Sam had suggested he read. John didn't understand why he would suggest a book about Angels, but apparently, they had just as much power as Demons. They could bring people back from the dead, and a number of other things. Though John didn't think it was Angels who brought him back. From what he could tell, they mostly kept to themselves. Not concerned with possessing people or causing any kind of problems.

Fuck it, he'd figure that out another day.

* * *

><p>Dean waited at the door of the gym. He wanted a spar and he was ready to grab anyone who walked by. He'd tried just working on some weight lifting and hitting a punching bag. But the weights had no warmth, and the bag didn't punch back. Therefore, it was not as satisfying as fighting with Sam or Castiel, or even those guys at the bar.<p>

He'd eventually come clean to Sam about that, the fight, not the other bit, and ended getting the book handed to him from his brother. Sam let him know he was not impressed with his actions, and made it a point to keep a closer eye on his brother. Making it so much harder on Dean to get some alone time with Castiel to talk. Every time they did get a chance, they would be interrupted by his dad. Someone Dean really thought should be kept in the dark.

This caused Dean to come up with some creative ways of getting his friend alone with him. He wanted to figure out just what it was they had, and they couldn't do that with everybody else hanging around. They had only shared that first kiss in the bar, and again in his room when he'd tried to make a move on him. Neither of those where exactly spectacular.

He smiled when he noticed someone walking down the hall. By the build of the guy, he could tell it was Castiel, and he was alone. Score!

Dean moved further into the door and out of sight. He waited just inside, listening to the footsteps in the hall get closer. When they where even with the door, he stuck out his hand, grabbing hold of the man's shirt and pulling him in. Dean smiled at the surprised look Castiel was giving him and started to throw him down on the floor.

However, Castiel was quick and skilled. So the only one to hit the floor was Dean, and Castiel had managed a kind of flip that broke Dean's grip and he scurried back to his feet. Ready for Dean's next attack. Not being one to disappoint, Dean swept his legs out to Castiel's to trip him up. His aim struck true, but Castiel managed to catch himself on his hands and rolling back up to his knees.

Dean wasn't going to let him keep the upper hand if he had his way, and got up to his knees as well. If it's a wrestling match he wants, it's a wrestling match he'll get. He thought, diving at Castiel and catching him around the middle and pushing him to knock him over. But Castiel was like a wall, and would not be budged. Holding firm, and grabbing Dean's arms to throw him over his shoulder.

Dean landed on his hands and knees and pushed himself up to his feet. Castiel doing the same, and getting into a position to defend against any one of Dean's attacks. Smiling, because the guy just looked so confident, Dean threw a punch in Castiel's direction. He was expecting Castiel to be able to dodge it, or for him to grab the fist, which is what he did. But Dean had other plans and hooked his leg behind Castiel's knee and pulling, taking him down to the ground. Dean landing on him and straddling his waist.

"Told you I'd get you one day." Dean said, leaning down an inch from Castiel's face and smiling.

"Congratulations." Castiel said, with a smile of his own. Then raising his head and pecking his lips to Dean's.

Dean looked down at his friend in surprised confusion. Yes, they had admitted that they liked each other. Had talked about it quite a bit afterwards, trying to erase any confusion that might be there. But they hadn't done anything else, and Dean always thought it would be him to make the first move. But Castiel had apparently gotten impatient.

Smiling Dean leaned his head down and pressed his lips down to Castiel's in a more satisfying kiss. Castiel's lips pliant and accepting, pressing back to Dean's in return. He felt a tongue trace across his lips and opened them up to accept Castiel's tongue, darting in and make a sweep around his mouth. Dean lifted his own tongue and rubbed it along Castiels, tasting what he could while it seemed Castiel was determined to taste every bit of his mouth.

The need for air eventually getting the better of Dean, however, and he had to pull away. He rested his forehead against Castiel's panting. The stupid bastard wasn't even breathing hard. He looked down at the smile on Castiel's face and decided that maybe that was a good thing. It would definitely come in handy in other areas.

Castiel raised his head back up and pressed his lips to Dean's. Who responded eagerly once he'd caught his breath, pushing himself down on Castiel so they where chest to chest. Before he felt hands on his shoulders. He was then turned over on his back, getting the wind knocked out of him with the impact. He looked up to find Castiel standing on his feet again, holding out a hand to help him up.

"You are one sneaky son of a bitch." Dean said, accepting the hand, letting Castiel pull him up. He smile at him and leaned down to give him another peck on the lips before he heard footsteps coming down the hall. He quickly took a step away from Castiel, and positioned himself for another round.

Castiel rolled his eyes, then moved into his own stance, waiting for Dean to attack. Dean smiled before moving forward, then stopping to send a kick in Castiel's direction. Castiel ducked under the leg and moved behind Dean quickly before grabbing him around the neck. Dean grabbed onto the arm, and bent at the waist, using what leverage he could to pull Castiel over his shoulder and onto his back.

They heard clapping from the door to see Sam watching them. He was wearing loose fitting sweats with a white T-shirt, telling Dean he had come to work out. Probably weightlifting, or core training, or maybe even Yoga. Dean could totally see Sam coming in here alone to bend himself around with deep breathing, in his attempts to be 'healthy'.

"So, are you two finished, or should I come back later?" Sam asked, looking between the two of them.

"Nah. I think we're done for the day." Dean answered, walking to the door and patting his brother on the back.

"Oh, yeah. You floor me twice, and suddenly that's all you need." Castiel stated sarcastically. He pushed himself up off the floor and walked to the door as well.

"You guys are welcome to join me in Yoga if you want." Sam offered, stretching out his arms and back. Dean had to stifle a chuckle, he knew it.

"Well, that's real tempting there Sammy." Dean said, taking a moment to yawn. "But, I think I'm gonna have to pass." He answered, sending a cheeky smile at his brother. Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother in disapproval before turning back into the room.

Castiel stood at the end of the hall, watching him. He kept his face neutral, but Dean could see the starting of an eye roll.

"Would it really hurt you so much if you do something outside of fighting." Castiel asked as Dean walked past him.

"Hell yes." Dean answered simply, looking around the corner, then back at the gym. No sign of John or Sam. He walked closer to Castiel and pressed him against the wall, before connecting their lips for a fourth time.

He kept if chaste, but he made sure Castiel could feel everything he put into it. He felt it when Castiel returned the kiss for a brief moment before pushing Dean back.

"We should really talk." Castiel suggested, looking at Dean with his clear blue eyes.

"I know." Dean said, nodding his head. He knew they needed to talk, he knew they needed to sit down and have an actual full conversation with Castiel about what they where. "But where? We don't get a moment of privacy between Dad and Sam." He asked, looking around, as if saying their names would summon them to that spot. He looked back at Castiel, who looked to be thinking.

"Tonight." Castiel suggested. "After everyone has gone to sleep. We can meet at the Impala." He planned.

"Now your speaking my language." Dean said, giving Castiel another kiss.

"We can talk there. It's private, and we would see anybody coming before they could hear what we where saying." Castiel explained, pushing Dean away a bit so he could get away from the wall. "Until then, we go on as usual." He suggested.

"Yeah." Dean agreed. It seemed like the best place, Dean wasn't about to turn down a private meet-up in his baby. He wanted this with Castiel, he wanted to be able to touch him, hold him. But he couldn't do it as much as he wanted and keep it away from his family. He was glad Castiel seemed to catch on about keeping this thing between them, but he wanted to explain himself. It was hard to do so when every time they talked there was someone else there. "Tonight."

Castiel nodded, then took a few more steps away as Dean could hear John walking by. He turned around and leaned against the wall in what he hoped was a casual way. His father's walking stopped when he saw them standing there, and gave Dean a questioning look.

"What's going on?" John asked, looking between the two of them.

"Nothing." Dean answered quickly. "Just discussing what we wanted for lunch. Grilled cheese sound good?" He asked, walking past his father.

"Sure." John answered, turning to walk with his son. "I help you with that." He said. Dean could hear the suspicion in his voice, and hoped that he could keep himself cool through the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>Woohoo! Now we are getting somewhere. I am almost certain that there will not be another chapter until next weekend, but I have it written. My funk seems to be over, so that's good. I can read again! That doesn't mean I am abandoning my writing, I know I have to keep that going.<p>

I hope you liked it, It's just a couple more chapters before we get to some of the sexy goodness. Until next time.


	12. Chapter 12:Secret Meetings and Disruptiv

Chapter 12: Secret Meetings, and Disruptive Fathers

Night fell over the bunker, and Dean sat in the living room watching a movie with his brother and father. John seemed interested in knowing what kind of movies had come in the past ten years. Dean knew he was only interested as a way of keeping Dean distracted for a few hours. He seemed to think it would help Dean relax. Really, Dean just wanted the movie to be over and them to go to sleep.

Unfortunately for him, Sam had suggested the Lord of the Rings movies as a starter. Dean was happy for awhile. He liked the movies, and it meant they had to sit in silence, lest they miss anything. However, half-way through the final movie, it was getting late. He should have known Sam would have gotten the extended additions. He wondered if Castiel was waiting for him. But he knew about the movie marathon. Had actually joined them for a bit, but half-way through he decided he could be doing something more productive and left.

He returned half an hour later to tell them that dinner was ready and walked back to the kitchen. Sam had paused the movie and went to the kitchen with the others. Dinner was simple, as Castiel did not have many skills in the kitchen. But it was edible, so they ate quickly. Dean having more trouble then usual holding his cup steady. Nobody noticed, and if they did, no one said anything.

That was four hours ago, and he was starting to feel twitchy. He needed to leave, needed to get up and do something. But that would tip off his father and Sam that he was hiding something. He kept telling himself Castiel had said when everybody went to sleep, he knew about the movie. He wasn't sitting at the car waiting for him. As if to prove his point, Castiel had walked into the room and sat down in one of the arm chairs, book in hand.

After what seemed an excruciatingly long time, the final credits started to roll across the screen. Dean internally sighed in relief and stood up. He stretched his muscles and yawned to sell the act before saying.

"Great movie." He said, then yawning again. "I think it's time to call it a day. So I'm off to bed." He said, walking out of his room, catching Castiel's eyes to let him know he would see him later.

"Really?" Sam asked, turning to watch his brother. "You don't want to watch the extra features?"

"No." Dean answered fast, then thought it was a bit too quick with the look Sam was giving him. "I mean, why ruin the magic Sam. You know all that stuffs going to do is show how fake everything is." He explained, keeping his voice, he hoped calm and normal.

"Okay, you have a good night." Sam said, turning the menu to the special features. "I'm gonna watch all the work that went into it."

"You to, Sam. You to." Dean said, walking down the hall and to his room. He laid down on his bed and waited. It was past midnight, and he wanted everybody to go to sleep.

He thought he wouldn't have long to wait, after all, how long could Special features last. Thirty minutes, an hour, couldn't possibly be that long. To pass the time, he worked on what he wanted to say to Castiel. Everything he wanted to go over, and maybe some other things.

* * *

><p>John watched his oldest walk out of the room and wondered if something was wrong. He had not seen Dean that jumpy since he was sixteen and waiting for the right opportunity to sneak out. John thought of that for a moment. He looked to his youngest who was sitting in the chair watching the documentary they had of the making of the movie.<p>

"You don't think Dean's planning on sneaking out again, do you?" John asked, looking to his son. Castiel had lifted his head from his book at that. Watching the conversation in silence.

"What?" Sam asked, looking at John. "You think so?"

"You saw how jumpy he was. I think he wants us to go to sleep so he could get out without anyone noticing like he did last time." John explained, pointing in Dean's direction.

"No, I don't think that's it." Castiel answered, chiming in and putting his book on the table next to him.

"Then what was that, huh?" John asked, shooting a reproving look at Castiel. He didn't know Dean as well as John or Sam did. He was sure of that.

"He was pretty twitchy at dinner tonight." Sam conceded, looking up in thought. "Maybe he was planning on leaving." He seemed to think to himself.

"If he was, he would have sneak the Impala out." Castiel reasoned. "He knows he can't get far if he starts the car in here. It wakes everyone up." He explained, sending a look to both of them, telling them he thought they where being paranoid.

"So maybe he thinks he can get out before we actually get in there to stop him." John suggested. "Maybe one of us should stay up tonight. Keep watch."

"If that where the case, he wouldn't get far." Castiel stated, pulling the keys out of his pocket with a smile.

"Cas you didn't." Sam accused, looking at the keys Castiel was twirling around his finger.

"I did." Castiel answered simply, smug look on his face. "You two can go ahead and sleep, I'll stay up and catch Dean in the act. He won't get out of here tonight." He told them, picking his book up.

"Don't you need to sleep to?" John asked, as Sam stood up and started stretching. Castiel looked at him thinking. Sam paused to think of something as well. John did not know that Castiel was an Angel and didn't need sleep.

"As soon as Dean tries to leave and I get him to go back to his room. I will hide the keys in my room and sleep myself." Castiel suggested, turning his eyes back to his book. John couldn't understand how he could read it the way he was. It seemed to be written in Ancient Chinese, though John couldn't be sure.

"Well, that solves that problem." Sam said, turning off the movie and walking out the door. "If you need anything, let me know." He shouted back, while walking to his room.

"You sure your going to be good for this?" John asked, he did not forget that last time Dean tried to sneak out and Castiel tailed him. He'd let Dean get himself drunk and into a fight before he intervened. John didn't buy the whole 'He had to learn his lesson' thing either. He thought the guy just thought it was funny.

"I will be fine." Castiel spoke smoothly, with a hint of a hardness in his voice. He seemed to be offended that John didn't trust him to do his job, and had no issues in letting him know it.

John rolled his eyes and walked to his room, determined to keep his ears open for the sound of an engine. He wanted to believe that Castiel would have it covered, but he never trusted anyone to do his job for him. He laid down, but made himself as uncomfortable as possible, not wanting to sleep that night. At least, not until he knew that both his boys where in there beds asleep and not trying to leave.

* * *

><p>It lasted longer then he had thought. Every few minutes or so, Dean had poked his head out of his room, keeping an ear out for voices or signs of life in the bunker. It was another hour after he stopped hearing voices and sounds before he thought it safe to leave his room.<p>

He slithered out of his room quietly, and crept down the hall. Mindful of any loose floor boards that would squeak and alert the others he was up. He moved stealthily through the bunker, past the hall John and Sam slept in.

He made his way over to the garage door, and opened it slowly to make sure there was no sound. He closed the door softly, doing his best to keep it silent. He turned to his car and saw Castiel standing there waiting. He grinned, reaching into his pockets to get his keys, cursing silently when his hands met air. He looked up at Castiel apologetically, but it turned into shocked relief when he saw that the keys where hanging off Castiel's index finger.

"Looking for these?" Castiel asked with a cheeky look on his face. Dean laughed and walked over, greeting Castiel with a kiss. Putting his arms around him and holding him close.

"Not anymore." He said, taking the keys from Castiel's hands and putting it into the locked back door, opening it up. "Come on." He said, coaxing Castiel into the seat and sliding in next to him. "Bit more comfortable in here." He said, leaning over the front seat to start the car, but Castiel caught his hand and pulled him back.

"Don't." Castiel cautioned. "You father noticed something weird with you earlier and thinks your going to try and sneak out." He told him. "If he hears that engine, he's going to come running in here."

"Nice call." Dean said, sitting back down in the seat and leaning back. "Guess I wasn't as cool as I thought I was."

"No, you where not." Castiel agreed frankly. "But that's beside the point. They think your trying to sneak out. So long as they don't hear the engine, we are alone. I was the one to volunteer to stop you when you tried to leave."

"Man." Dean groaned, covering his face with his hands. "He's gonna treat me like a fucking child."

"Well, you did escape once already, and get drunk when you are supposed to be getting over your alcoholism." Castiel joked, looking at Dean shyly.

"Then it's such a good thing I have you here to stop me." Dean said, leaning down to give Castiel another kiss and putting his arm around his shoulders.

"So." Castiel said, sitting up straighter and looking to Dean expectantly. "You don't want Sam or John to know about us." He more stated then asked. Looking at Dean sadly.

"No." Dean answered, then seeing Castiel's disappointed look, he continued. "At least not yet. I will eventually. It's just, I haven't really told them that I like men, I'm fairly certain if I don't talk to them about it, and get them used to it first. Dad will do everything he can to make you leave, or kill you. He'll think your doing something to my head and then who knows what he would do. Sam might be okay, but I just want to tell them on my own terms." He explained.

"That is understandable." Castiel stated. "I will admit, your father does not seem to like me very well. He actually seems to believe I will eventually decide to kill you all, and is just waiting for proof before he tries to kill me. I will respect your wishes. But you do know that I am not a very good liar, and it will be rather difficult to hide ourselves." He conceded, looking at his hands.

"Yeah, it sucks." Dean agreed. "It would be so much better if it where just us, or they didn't feel like they had to watch my every move."

"You mean it would be easier to sneak around?" Castiel clarified, looking up at Dean. Dean felt a slight tinge of guilt at that. He knew that hiding it made it seem wrong, or like he was ashamed. But he wasn't, he was just trying to protect Castiel. Stop his father from trying to kill one of the most important people to him. Whether they where together or not.

"Maybe." Dean amended. "But, sneaking around or not. It doesn't mean I'm ashamed, or that it's wrong." He comforted, kissing Castiel on the cheek.

Castiel returned the kiss, deepening it as much as he could in the position that they where in. Dean ran his tongue along Castiel's lips, opening them up and gaining access. He went deeper into his mouth, running his tongue along Castiel's teeth and the roof of his mouth. Trying to taste ever bit of him he could reach. Letting out a small moan when Castiel's tongue slid across his own, sucking him in and running along the bottom.

They broke apart, Dean looking into Castiel's clear blue eyes. He connected their lips again, but parted very quickly. He grabbed Castiel's arms, and pulled him onto his lap, Castiel complying and straddling his thighs as he wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. He pulled Castiel in closer, so that their chest where flush against each other, and taking his lips into his own again. Holding his hands at Castiel's waist, he played at the hem, lifting it up slightly. He ran his hands along Castiel's stomach, playing with the top of his jeans.

"That tickles." Castiel reprimanded, pulling away from Dean to send him a reproachful look. Dean smiled, and started moving his fingers further up Castiel's stomach, making his movements feather lights, Castiel squirming at his ministrations.

Dean laughed as Castiel moved back a bit to escape his hands. Finally, Castiel grabbed his hands and pulled them away from his stomach.

"Don't." Castiel ordered, putting Dean's hands to his side.

"Okay." Dean said, flashing a flirtatious smile. "Whatever you say."

Dean pulled Castiel in again, and connected their lips again, taking Castiel's tongue into his mouth when he offered it. Enjoying the feeling of Castiel in him, memorizing the taste. He ran his hands up Castiel's thigh, and back down again, earning a sigh from Castiel's mouth. He could feel himself growing his his jeans, intensifying the kiss as much as possible. He was about ready to take this to a new level, when they heard the door start to open.

Castiel pulled away quickly and sat down in the seat next to Dean, keeping a good foot between them. Dean looked at the door, and saw his father standing there, looking around the room. He quickly made himself presentable, and finding a jacket in the floor, he tied it around his waist. Castiel looked completely calm, as if they where just talking.

Castiel motioned for Dean to hand over the keys. Dean gave them to him, and stepped out of the car as Castiel did. He did his best to make sure his breathing was even as he spoke.

"Hey Dad." He greeted. "What's up?"

"What where you doing in the car?" John asked, looking at both of them. Dean hoped he didn't notice his disheveled appearance.

"Oh, just talking." Dean answered, waving away the answer as if it where no big deal. "You know, the backseat's more comfortable then anything else here." He said, gesturing around the room.

John looked around, and nodded as if he understood that. He looked over at Castiel who was leaning against an old Bentley, and listening to the conversation. Castiel seemed to make sure that he held the keys to the car in plain sight. John looked back at Dean with a reproachful look.

"You did try to sneak out again." John accused, looking at Dean who shrugged his shoulders in shame.

"Yeah. I did. I guess I'm just getting antsy, sitting in here all day." Dean confessed, schooling his features into one of guilt. "I just want to get out of here for a bit. I had every intention of being back here by morning. But would you know it, Cas caught me and stole my keys." He said, sending his friend a glare. Castiel smile smugly and walked out of the garage. Dean silently cursing, there goes his fun. He was interrupted from his thoughts when a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"It's okay Dean." John said, smiling sympathetically at his son. "I understand that. Maybe tomorrow we could go into town and do something. You, Sam, and me, just like old times. Or maybe we could find an easy hunt." He said, removing his hand and slapping Dean on the back.

"Yeah, maybe." Dean said, screaming internally. That could go really bad.

* * *

><p>Dean walked back to his room after he managed to assure his father there would be no more sneaking out for the night. He was seriously going to hurt someone if his father looked at him like that again. Like he was something fragile that needed to be coddled. Since when was he like that anyway?<p>

He was always the one to tell Dean to suck it up and stop being a baby. Why would he change that now? Did he all the sudden think he could be the good father? Dean was the one who raised Sam, was the one to take care of himself and his little brother while his Dad left them alone in motel rooms all across the country. He had no right to coddle Dean like that. He wasn't a child anymore, damn it.

What's worse, he thought he was doing him a favor, letting him out of the bunker. Like he had the most say in the matter. He may have been their father, but Dean was a grown man and could do whatever he wanted. What he wanted at that moment had happened to be in the back seat with him, and very willing. What was he supposed to do now? Go to sleep?

Maybe he should. After all, the mood was sufficiently destroyed. Castiel was already in his room, probably asleep himself. Completely oblivious to Dean's plight. He tore off his shirt and threw it across the room before doing the same with his pants. He pulled his covers up over his shoulders and closed his eyes. At least in his dreams, no one could interrupt him.

He heard footsteps out in the hall a few minutes later. They where to heavy to be Castiel's, he noticed. The guy's, even without using his powers, was quiet as a mouse. They had to be his father's then. Just great.

* * *

><p>There you are, another chapter. I'm sorry it took this long, but when I tried to update yesterday, the server was not working. But I got it up as soon as I could.<p>

Hope you enjoyed the cockblocking monster that is John Winchester. It's most likely genetic.

Have a good day.


	13. Chapter 13: An Outing

Warning: This chapter contains homophobic slurs, and swearing.

* * *

><p>Chapter 13: An Outing<p>

The next morning found John in an argument with Sam. He suggested going out on a family hunt, and was even looking for some. Sam, however, thought it was a bad idea and absolutely refused.

"No, no. Absolutely no hunting until Dean is better." Sam stated, shaking his head.

"He wants out of this place, and I don't blame him. It would be an easy one." John argued back. "Just something to get his mind off everything. He'd be with us, we could watch him." He said, trying to convince his youngest.

"Dad." Sam said, reproachfully. "He's not in any condition to do even the simplest of hunts. You've seen him right. I don't know if your aware of this, but if someone's having hallucinations it's a bad idea put them in front of something that can use that. Let alone the fact that he can barely hold a gun straight." He stated, the last thing Dean needed was a hunt. That would involve killing, and feeding the mark.

"Then what if he just does research and we go out to kill the thing?" John suggested, gesturing to the papers scattered around him.

"And what do you think is going to happen when we leave him alone to kill the damn thing?" Sam asked annoyed.

"That's why we take the car." John supplied with a smile.

"Hello, Dad, taxi's. Plus, there are going to be several bars and alcohol stores in the area of motel rooms. There always is. He could just as easily walk to one of those." Sam countered, his face growing harder at his fathers pigheadedness.

"Then we can take him, but make him sit in the car." John argued, trying to find a solution. Sam stopped to stare at his father disbelievingly.

"Do you honestly think Dean's going to go for that?" Sam asked, incredulously. "He's thirty-five, not twelve. He'll just walk out and do whatever the Hell he wants and ignore us when we tell him not to." He shot back. John had to admit, Sam had a point. Dean always had a rebellious streak, but it showed it's self mostly to teachers and cops. He always listened to his father, but John wasn't sure he would do that at all anymore. Dean's personality had been jumping around quite a bit lately. Some days friendly, and others a royal pain.

"Fine." John conceded. "No hunting." He sighed, he had tried, and his youngest had been able to counter everything. "Then what about going out to a movie or something?" He asked.

"Now that's do able." Sam said, calming down and sitting across from his father at the table. "But Dean's been having issues with headaches and dizzy spells. So maybe something else." He reasoned, pulling one of the papers towards himself.

John thought about that for a moment. He was upset about not being able to hunt, but he understood why. Maybe later, when Dean's feeling better, or he could take care of one close by. He was going crazy sitting here as well. But hunting wasn't possible at the moment. Dean only really had two passions, hunting and cars. Then John thought of something.

"Well, you did say that Dean wanted to fix up some of those old cars in the garage." John suggested, thinking. "Maybe we could figure out what parts they need, and go around to some junkyards to collect them."

"That might work, and it would distract Dean for a few days." Sam agreed. "Give him a job to do, and take his mind off things. While getting his hands dirty." He added, flipping through the paper for advertisements in auto-parts stores. It would also keep John distracted as well, meaning it would give Sam more time to help Castiel with researching ways of getting rid of the mark. He knew that needed to be done, but John had hardly left him alone. Unless he was watching Dean, and he was full of questions.

"Alright. I'm going to go look at the cars, see what we need." John said, getting up and heading to the garage with a piece of paper in his hands.

As it turned out, the cars didn't need much. A few parts a piece that had just gone to rust with age and disrepair, and a lot of tinkering. Each car would take a few days, if they paced themselves. Of which he was rather glad for, it would give them both something to do together. Maybe reconnect, he missed his son. The one he knew, the joker with the womanizing smile.

He wrote down the parts he needed and went back to the kitchen to see Sam standing over the oven. He continued on to Dean's room and let himself in, announcing himself as he opened the door. He did remember that his son had a habit of hiding daggers under his pillow and didn't want to surprise him. Lest he get a knife at his throat.

Dean was laying with his blankets bundled at foot of the bed, on his stomach and his hand under the pillow. John couldn't help but think, that when he slept, he almost looked the age that he'd last seen him. Twenty-seven and full of life, but no less ready for anything.

"Morning Dean." He said, raising his voice enough to wake his son, but not enough to scare him. Dean lifted himself up slowly, not at the least surprised to see his father in his room. Telling John he'd heard him come in.

"What?" Dean asked, raising himself to his feet and walking to his closet.

"Need an early start. Sam's making breakfast, and we have a lot of places to go today." John said with a smile.

"Oh really." Dean said disbelievingly. "And where would that be?"

"Oh, a few junk yards, auto-body and parts stores." John said offhandedly. "Then I thought we could spend the next few days working on those cars you got out there." He said, with a flourish, expecting Dean to say something positive.

"Alright." Dean yawned. "Give me a few minutes." He said, pulling out his clothes, and walking out of his room.

John rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. Maybe he just needed some coffee in him before he showed some emotion. John knew he was similar once he got to a certain age. Dean was in his thirties now, he was bound to be experiencing some of the set backs of age. Especially with as hard as his life had been.

He came back into the kitchen to find Castiel sitting at the table talking with Sam. A paper open in his hands, and a cup of coffee next to him. He took a seat as Sam was telling Castiel the plan for the day.

"Are you going to come?" Sam asked, John internally flinching. He knew Sam was trying to be polite, but he was kind of hoping this could be a family thing. He wanted sometime alone with his children without having to worry about the guy butting in.

"No." Castiel answered with an appreciative smile. "I believe I will stay here. I was never interested in cars." He finished, turning back to his paper.

"What kind of man is not interested in cars?" John asked, looking at Castiel as if he'd grown a second head. He never understood that in certain guys. He had loved cars since he was a child, learned everything he could about them. No man wasn't interested in cars, unless he was a fag or something.

"I'm not really interested in cars." Sam confessed, sitting down a few plates with some fruit and and toast on them. "What I do know is purely because I have to."

"Well, you where always more into books." John reasoned, looking at his son.

"So is Cas." Dean said, walking in and sitting down next to Castiel. "Machinery is not his interest, it's learning things about monsters and ghost. He's always been like that, and hardly ever had a reason to worry about cars."

"What's gonna happen when he's stranded on the road with a flat tire, then?" John asked. "Are you going to bail him out. You could be on the other side of the country when that happens."

"Just because I'm not interested, doesn't mean I don't know how to fix them." Castiel stated calmly, saving Dean the trouble of doing so himself. "I know how to do many things if the opportunity so presents itself."

"Reading it in a book isn't the same as doing." John shot back, taking a bite of toast.

"I didn't read it in a book." Castiel stated, taking a sip of coffee. Not sparing a single glance at John. "I learned it by doing so with my own hands." He explained. John could see Dean smiling at him, with a touch of pride in his eyes.

"Whatever." John said, he was tired of arguing with the guy. What's more, the guy was always so damn calm. John could never get a read on him.

They finished eating quickly, the only words spoke where those of pleasantries, and nothing else. When finished, they cleaned up, and put things away. John over hearing Dean ask Castiel if he would be alright by himself. John rolled his eyes, the man wasn't a child. Dean should be the one they worried about. He had enough on his plate, and didn't need to be bothered worrying about him. He sighed when Castiel said he would be fine, and that Dean should go and enjoy himself.

They left quickly after that, Dean having to run back in to get a jacket before meeting them at the car. Sam asking if he was feeling well, after all it was nice out, a bit warm for a jacket. He asked Dean if he thought he was coming down with something. But Dean just shrugged it off and said it was just in case, before starting the car and pulling out.

* * *

><p>Dean was happy he was getting out of the bunker, don't get him wrong. He'd been coped up for days, and needed a break. He just wished is was with someone else, or by himself.<p>

Sam was watching him like he could loose it any minute.

He had been intending to get to those cars eventually, so he supposed the errand was a good one. Give him an excuse to hide himself in the garage when somebody was bothering him. They needed the parts, and it was a good time to work on them. If he wasn't allowed to hunt after all, he may as well get his hands dirty in some way.

But it lasted a lot longer then he thought it would. Taking most of the day to track down a few of the parts they needed. They ended up having lunch at a diner in town, and Dean may have been given the number of the waitress who served them. John and Sam watching him, teasing him for the next hour about being an old pervert. The chick was barely in her twenties. He couldn't do much while under the scrutiny of his brother and father, but he managed to excuse himself at the next garage to throw it away. He was flattered but not interested.

It was nightfall before they made it back to the bunker, and Dean couldn't be more happy to see it. Maybe he'd been stuck there for so many days, leaving was exhausting, and he was ready to stop when he got back.

When he entered the main area of the bunker to tell Castiel they where back, it was to a great deal of smoke and the smell of something burning. Dean ran into the kitchen to find Castiel standing at the stove waving his hands around, trying to clear it of smoke. There where no flames, which made his heart rate drop considerably. But Castiel's face was blackened by smoke, and mysterious things where sitting on top of the stove.

"What the Hell?" Dean asked to Castiel, who looked harassed and guilty at the same time.

"I tried to cook dinner." Castiel explained, looking at the wrecked remains of what he had attempted. Dean just laughed and walked to the stove, taking stock of what he saw. Castiel had apparently attempted to make some kind of fish, or chicken. He couldn't tell.

"Tried to cook what exactly?" Dean asked, looking down at the other pots and pans.

"Fish and rice." Castiel answered simply. "I remembered that most meats take awhile to cook, so I thought I could walk away for a moment. When I got back, there was smoke everywhere. In my haste to take care of the smoke, the rice started to burn as well." He explained, not meeting Dean in the eyes as John and Sam walked in. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"Hey don't worry about it." Dean said, walking up to Castiel and patting him on the shoulder. "But here's a few tips, alright. One, don't walk away, unless it's just to go to the bathroom or something. Then, turn the heat down. Two, fish doesn't take as long as most meats, so you don't have to have the heat up so high. Three, rice needs water, and lots of it." He said with a small smile. "If you want, I can show you a few things tomorrow." He suggested, pulling a small smile from Castiel.

"What the Hell." John said, looking at what was on the stove.

"It's nothing." Dean said, turning to his father. "Just a little cooking mishap. Nothing that can't be cleaned up. No harm done." He said, patting Castiel's shoulders, and picking up a pot to empty it out in the trash.

Castiel took it from Dean when offered, and put it in the sink. He put some soap in and filled it up with hot water before grabbing a sponge and using the rough side to clean it. Dean took the next one and threw away the contents of that as well. Then placed it in the hot water to soak while Castiel cleaned the other one. He then grabbed another pot from the cabinets to make something else.

"You need any help, Dean?" John asked, watching the proceedings.

"Nah, I got it." Dean said, starting some water to boil. Pasta was quick and easy, so he figured he would do that. He pulled some rigatoni out of the cabinets and a store bought sauce, then looked over to Castiel who was scrubbing the pot as if it had personally offended him. John had walked out, to do who knows what, and they where alone.

He walked over to Castiel and put his hands on his shoulders. Rubbing them down his arms for comfort. He doubled checked the room before placing a quick peck on the nape of Castiel's neck. Placing his hands on Castiel's, he made him look up.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, turning Castiel's head to face his. Castiel sighed, looking back down at the pot, and resuming his scrubbing. "Cas?" He prompted, before Castiel put the pot back in the water.

"Your father thinks I'm useless, as well as dangerous." Castiel stated, not looking up from his chore that was now at the bottom of the sink. "And I can't do something as simple as cooking. Something human's have been doing since they where walking up right." He said, picking the pot back up and renewing his task with vigor. "How could I let this happen. I used to work at a Gas'n'Sip. I had to cook, I should be able to do this."

"Hey." Dean said, stilling Castiel's hands. "Relax, what you did at Gas'n'Sip was completely different then actual cooking. No body's good when they first start out. It takes practice. I'll teach you tomorrow, you'll be fine. If you want to help me cook every night, until your comfortable doing it on your own. I wounldn't say no to the company." He said, looking around again before wrapping his arms around Castiel's hips and pulling him in closer.

"I'd like that." Castiel agreed, leaning his head back on Dean's shoulder and looking up. "But I am sorry about this mess." He said, looking back into the now black water of the sink.

"Hey, your the one cleaning it up. So I'm not fussed about it." He said, kissing Castiel on the cheek before heading to the stove to see if the water was boiling yet. He put a few drops of oil into the water to prevent the noddles from sticking, then let it sit another few minutes to boil.

Dinner was a quick meal, everybody eating their pasta, and cleaning up. Castiel's burned dishes sitting in the drainer, gleaming. He had evidently taken his frustrations with himself out on the burns. They watched a movie when finished, working on catching their father up on cinematic masterpieces. Dean thankful that it wasn't a marathon again.

Castiel had left halfway through the second action movie their where watching. Saying he was going to bed. Sam and John waved him off with out much thought, and continued to watch the movie. Dean waited another thirty minutes before getting up himself.

"What?" Sam asked, when Dean stated he as going to bed. "But it's The Bourne Identity. You love that movie." He said, watching Dean walk out of the room.

"I'm just not feeling it today." Dean said, stopping in the doorway and gesturing to the T.V. "Besides, the best parts have already happened." He said, walking out and heading to his room. Hoping that once this movie was over, they would go to sleep.

* * *

><p>He had awhile to wait, he discovered, poking his head out in search of noise. They had apparently decided to watch the whole trilogy, keeping them up way into the night and early morning. He laid in his bed, waiting for the sound to cut out, and for his father's footsteps to come by before he got up again.<p>

Making sure his father was out of the area, and no one else was around. He shifted out of his room and quietly shut his door. He tip-toed down the hall a few steps, and stopped at Castiel's door. He placed his ear up to the door, looking for signs of life inside. Hearing nothing, he turned the knob slowly.

Opening the door quietly, he stuck his head in a moment to look. Castiel was sitting up in his bed, book open, and laying on his lap. He looked up at Dean's entry and smiled.

"Hello Dean." Castiel said, sitting straighter in his bed, and gesturing Dean to come in. He walked in, closing the door slowly, trying not to make a sound. Looking around the room, he noticed that Castiel hadn't made it his own much, just kept it impossibly clean somehow. Aside from the books on the desk, Dean wasn't sure he would know anyone lived there.

He walked further inside and sit down on the bed at Castiel's invitation. Sitting crossed legged in front of him. Castiel had marked his place in the book and closed it, putting it on the nightstand next to him.

"So, how did your day go?" Castiel asked, with genuine interest.

"Okay, I guess. Not much arguing if that's what your asking." Dean answered, leaning against the wall comfortably. "But otherwise, pretty smooth. Though I had hoped you'd come, be a buffer." He suggested, Castiel rolling his eyes.

"It's obvious your father doesn't like me." Castiel stated uninterested. "I thought it rude to impose myself on him more then needed. Especially when he doesn't want me around." He answered, leaning forward to look Dean in the eyes.

"He'll warm up to you." Dean stated surely. "If he doesn't, it doesn't matter. I like you, and that's all that matters to me." He said, leaning forward as well. Giving him a reassuring peck on the lips. Castiel seemed to not believe him, but humored him anyway.

"So, how are you feeling?" Castiel asked, changing the subject. "You know, after your outing." He clarified with a smile.

"Oh, very relaxed." Dean said, rolling his eyes sarcastically. "Well, there where a few times today, where I wanted to grab the closest knife and plunge it into my fathers and brother's chest." Dean answered, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. "But that's how family is supposed to make you feel sometimes. Especially when they give you crap for some young little waitress' crush on you." He admitted, looking at Castiel who feature immediately schooled into a stoic expression.

"So are you going to go out with her?" Castiel asked, his voice calm, a mask of disinterest. Dean hadn't heard that kind of calmness in Castiel's voice since they first met.

"What?" Dean asked, incredulous. "Fuck no, Cas. I threw that girls number away the second I got a chance." He told him, anger seeping out of every word. Sure his track record wasn't exactly the best, but that didn't mean he was a cheater or anything. "I mean, I am with you. Aren't I?" He asked, insecurity getting the better of him. Yes, they kissed, and talked, they talked a lot. But they never really cleared the air about what they where.

"Are you?" Castiel asked, face un-moving from that stoic expression. "I have to admit Dean. I do want a relationship with you. Open and honest. I understand that you don't want your family to know, but I would like you to be a bit more forthcoming with what you want. Do you want the same, or are you just frustrated with being coped up in here all day, and need some sort of sexual release?"

"We haven't even done anything yet, Cas." Dean argued that point.

"But you want to, and I do to for that matter." Castiel admitted. "But are the things we want different. Am I looking to far into this, while your just looking for something that's close by and not family?"

"No, of course not." Dean answered truthfully. Is that what was really bothering Castiel. "I made the first move, remember. I told you I how I felt, how I have been feeling for you the past couple years."

"After you spent the night in a bar, flirting with a girl who happened to have a very jealous boyfriend." Castiel shot back. Dean had to admit he had a point, he had not looked very good at the time.

"That?" Dean asked, arm shooting out in frustration. "I did that because I needed a drink. I would have liked to come home to you. I would have liked you to come. But I figured you wouldn't have been up for that sort of thing. For God's sake Cas, you've been married once. Let's not forget about April as well. I thought you where straight, if you where ever interested in any of that at all." He explained, staring at his friend's eyes. Never getting over just how blue they where.

"You could have just asked me." Castiel pointed out, staring back blankly.

"Your an Angel." Dean reasoned. "A mother fucking Angel of the Lord. Isn't gay sex and love a sin or something? I figured you would look at me with pity, and then leave so as not to temp me or something." He bit out, looking down at his lap and refusing to look at his friend.

"You human's and your labels." Castiel mumbled, shaking his head. Dean looked up to see a small smile on his face. "That kind of prejudice is purely a human construct, created by the profits as they wrote their parts. Many of them, often times put their own beliefs in the Bible in order to make people think they needed to follow it. God, we Angels, we are not so closed minded to believe that the genitals of two lovers is really a matter of import."

"Really?" Dean asked.

"No, not at all." Castiel answered plainly.

"So, I was just being an idiot, making assumptions like that." Dean stated, watching Castiel who's face broke into a genuine grin.

"Yes, you where." He stated, grin growing wider.

"So you would have been good for this..." Dean started, trailing off in the hopes of getting an answer.

"Dean, I rebelled against Heaven for you. Threw a Molotov cocktail of Holy Fire at an Archangel, to protect you." Castiel reminded Dean who let out a long breath.

"Then what the Hell have I been doing this entire time?" Dean asked himself. Thinking back to all the years he'd held this feeling in himself, not even admitting to it. Thinking about everything that happened over the past few years, Castiel doing everything in his power to help him, even though it was obvious he had bigger issues to take care of. Castiel leaned forward and kissed him to get his attention.

"Being human. Doubting yourself, like anyone would do." Castiel answered him, pressing his lips to Dean's again for just a moment. Dean grabbed Castiel's shirt and pulled him toward himself, taking his lips in his own.

"I was a complete idiot, huh?" Dean asked, breaking free from Castiel's, just barely.

"We both where." Castiel conceded, smiling at Dean.

* * *

><p>There you go. Another chapter, and early, or late depending how you look at it. I generally try to post on the weekends, but I could only do one chapter this weekend, and I felt like I was slouching. But, anyhoo, I hope you liked.<p>

Nice reviews make me happy and give me strength.

Have a nice day.


	14. Chapter 14:Questions and a Romantic Inte

Warning: This chapter contains gay slurs, and m/m grinding.

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><p>Chapter 14: Questions and a Romantic Interlude<p>

Dean awoke the next morning, still fully clothed with his arm wrapped around Castiel's waist. He looked down at his friend, boyfriend, partner, whatever he was and smiled. They had talked for awhile about how Dean was doing in his recovery from the mark, and what was going on in the bunker. They had talked until the sun rose, Dean falling asleep, wrapped around Castiel. Clinging to him like a child clings to their stuffed animals, and comforted by the warmth the Angel gave off.

He knew he was getting attached rather quickly, but with Castiel. It felt easier, like he wasn't being judged and was on equal footing. Someone who listened without trying to solve his problems for him, and made him laugh when he needed it. Comforted him even though he wouldn't admit he liked it, and made him feel taken care of for once, instead of him being the one to do all the caring.

He was just about to lay back down and snuggle back into the warmth, when he heard noises out in the main areas.

Damn it! His brother and father where up. He slowly and carefully, unwrapped himself from Castiel's solid form, immediately missing the warmth, and gingerly climbed out of the bed. He needed to get to his own room, before his father decided to pull a stunt like yesterday, and just walk in. He quickly and quietly made his way to the door and opened it, mindful of the squeak that it made. Sneaking to his own room a couple doors down, and entering it just as stealthily.

He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and managed to undress and get into the bed, pulling the blankets over himself just in time for the door to open.

"Dean." His father said, walking into the room and over to his bed. "Come on, sunshine. Time to get up." He ordered, pulling Dean's blankets off him. Dean groaned, he hoped convincingly, squinting his eyes as if he was just waking up.

"What?" He asked, making a show of getting out of the bed, and stretching.

"Those cars aren't going to fix themselves, and it's going to take at least a couple of weeks." John said, opening his closet door and throwing a pair of pants and a shirt at him. "We need to get an early start, so up." He finished, walking out of the room.

Dean rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. He swore the guy couldn't have been human when he was a teenager, and he was still slightly convinced of it. No one should have that much energy in the morning after staying up until two, watching action movies. It was obvious the guy was being driven just as crazy as he was, sitting in here without a hunt. But that was just part of his personality and not because he was cursed by a knight of Hell.

He dressed quickly, and headed out of the room. No point in showering until they where done with the cars for the day, unless he wanted to take another one later, after getting all greased up. He found Sam in the kitchen, making something that smell suspiciously healthy. Just great, that's all he needed. He probably shouldn't have stayed up as late as he did. The kitchen duties where being taken over by people who don't know what a good breakfast was.

* * *

><p>John was happy to have something to work on again. Something that he knew, that would take up a considerable amount of time. In his mind, there was nothing better then getting your hands dirty, doing something you love. His hands moved almost on auto-pilot as he checked the cars over, tightening anything that needed to be tightened, and checking the fluids.<p>

It was manly, it was normal, and it took all your attention. It was a job to do, something that was needed. It would, in the long run, give them a good supply of funds as well. People would pay a lot of money for all of these cars. Many of which where older then he was, and he was happy to be fulfilling a boyhood dream, working on these things. He had always had a love of classic cars.

A love, he noticed, that had been passed down to his oldest. Dean may have been upset with being waken up early, but once in the garage, he was almost the Dean John remembered. Smiling, whistling, joking around, and working quickly without so much as a single complaint. Taking him back to when Dean was a child and they would be staying at Bobby's. When he would go out to the yard with him and work on those cars, happy to be learning about something his father loved to do.

He looked down at his oldest's legs poking out from under the car, hearing Metallica being hummed from his location, and smiled. This is what he should be doing. Maybe he could settle down, build a garage in the area and go on minor hunts here and there. With the Demon gone, there was nothing more for him to work towards. He could retired, really be there for his boys, like Bobby was all those years he was gone. He sent a silent 'Thank You' to Bobby, where ever he was, for looking after them. Even if they didn't always get along, he could always tell the old codger had loved his kids.

"So, Sam told me that you guys had been busy for the past few years." John started, wanting to get to know his son again. "But he also said that you both tried to retire a time or two. What did you do when you stopped?" He asked, Dean sitting up too quickly, he thought as he heard a clunk and his son swearing as he scooted himself out from under the car.

"What?" Dean said, sitting up and holding his head.

"Sam mentioned something about a girl and a kid." John said with smile. "I was just curious if I had any grandchildren out there I should meet." He explained, looking down at his son, waiting for an answer.

"No." Dean answered quickly, pulling his hand away to check for blood. "No grandchildren, no girl, no nothing." He said forcefully, grabbing another tool before going back under the car.

"What, did it not work out?" John asked, moving to check the oil. "She kick you out?"

"Dad." Dean pleaded, wanting to stop this conversation. John could tell it was a touchy subject, but he felt like he needed to know.

"Come on, Dean." John asked, stooping down to try and look at his son's face. "Sam told me what had happened with him, I just want to know about you."

"No, it didn't work out." Dean finally caved, voice tight in frustration. "The kid wasn't mine, so you don't have to worry about any grandchildren."

"Why didn't it work?" John prodded, trying to keep his voice politely interested.

"Well, let me think. I was an alcoholic. My brother had come back to life. I had to start hunting again, and, oh yeah, they where kidnapped by Demon's and almost killed." Dean bit out sarcastically. "I thought it safer for the kid, and Lisa if they just forgot I existed, so that's what happened. That's it, nothing else, don't want to talk about it." He finished, John sensing the anger in his voice. Dean was obviously pretty upset about the whole thing, and John couldn't blame him. He understood wanting to stay, then having to leave because it was safer for the whole party, so he dropped the subject.

"Anybody else?" He asked, looking through the engine at his boy, who let out a long suffering sigh.

"No one important." Dean answered stiffly, voice wavering slightly at the end.

"Your saying that in the ten years I've been dead, you have only had one relationship." John said, looking down at his son in disbelief.

"What can I say, Dad." Dean started. "I'm not the type to get into a relationship. Weekends are fine, and one night stands are fun. But a relationship is just not possible in my lifestyle. It's safer for me to be alone, then it is to bring an innocent person into this life." He answered, voice telling John he didn't want to continue this conversation.

"Alright, I get it." John conceded. "You don't want to talk about your past girlfriends. How about any friends you have, except for the weirdo that's here. Still trying to figure out how he managed to make you guys think he was trustworthy."

"Cas is trustworthy, okay. You just have to get to know him." Dean stated, jumping into the defense of his friend. "Yeah, it was a bit rocky during the first year, but we where trying to prevent an apocalypse together. You know how stress can make you do weird things. Then during the next year, we where doing our best to stop one."

"Is that the only reason you two are friends?" John asked, tightening a couple of spark plugs.

"No, he's funny, in his own weird way." Dean answered, his voice muffled by the car. "And it's not everyday that you find someone who's willing to throw a Molotov cocktail of Holy Oil at an Archangel, knowing full well that they are going to die right after, for you." He told John, remembering the conversation he had had last night with his friend.

"A Molotov cocktail?" John asked. After that book that Sam had given him, he had to admit, he admired the guys courage.

"Holy Oil." Dean re-iterated. "And yeah, he did that. Then when Lucifer himself, asked him if he just Molotoved his brother, Cas' answer was 'Uh, no." Dean told him, imitating Castiel's deep voice sarcastically. "Of course, that was all after calling them both 'Assbutts."" He continued with a chuckle. "If the situation hadn't been so dire, I probably would have busted out laughing."

"So he's one of those hunters that are out for kicks, huh?" John asked. To his knowledge, the only kind of people who would do that, are the hunters that usually took unnecessary risks.

"No, he's not." Dean corrected. "He's usually very careful. He just finds a lot of the big issues, and feels like he has to fix it. I can't really blame the guy, I'd do the same thing. Besides, we all need to take some fun out of the job. He just has a problem with authority."

"Dean, isn't there something about him that rubs you the wrong way?" John asked, trying to figure out what it was that was getting to him. The guy sounded great on paper, but for some reason he just couldn't place, he had issues with the guy. "He's a bit clean, I mean, what if he's some kind of queer or something?" He asked, hearing Dean drop a tool, and roll out from under the car.

"Why do you have to say it like that?" Dean asked his father, looking up at him.

"Like what?" John asked, looking down at Dean in confusion.

"Queer, fag, gay." Dean listed off. "Why do you have to say that like it's a bad thing?" Dean asked his father. "I mean, it's not exactly an important issue for us. I mean, what would you have done if I or Sam had come home with a boy instead of a girl?" He asked, walking over to the tool box.

"Why would you ask that question, Dean?" John asked, watching his son's shaky movements.

"Times have changed, people are people. Just answer the question." Dean ordered, looking as if he wasn't going to back down.

"Well." John started thinking. "I would have been confused for one thing. The amount of times I got a call from your school, complaining of you being caught in a closet with a girl." He said, trying to avoid the question.

"That's not an answer." Dean stated plainly, watching his father. "Would you have kicked us out, beat us? I mean, if a guys homosexual, does that mean he doesn't deserve to be saved?" He pressured, watching his father's face.

"No, Dean, of course not." John hedged, what was the point of all this. Whatever it was, he could see that Dean was taking it very seriously. Maybe he had hit on something when he said that that guy might have been gay. "It would take me awhile to get used to the idea. I was raised in a different time, we didn't talk about these things much. But I would like to think I would except it. I mean, it wouldn't be like you had fallen in love with a Demon or some other kind of creature after all." He answered. "But why does this even matter all the sudden?"

"You have to admit, you do come off as very homophobic. I'm just saying, people are people." Dean told him, looking him straight in the eye. "You know what, never mind." He said, raising his hands up in the air and walking out the door.

John watched him go, and looked down at the car they had been working on. They had been having a good time just a few hours ago. Where the Hell had all that come from?

* * *

><p>Night fell over the bunker to find everybody going to bed early. John had mentioned something about wanting to get an early start on the cars in the morning since they had stopped after dinner. Sam had stated something about a book he was reading, and went to his room as well. Dean finding this a wonderful opportunity, he had waited until they where clear, before walking to the library that held Castiel.<p>

He found him, as usual, surrounded by massive piles of books. Whatever he was looking into, he was taking it very seriously. He walked in and wrapped his arms around Castiel's neck, before giving a small kiss to the back of it.

"What are you looking at?" He asked Castiel, bending down to read the ancient text that was written in the book. Castiel turned to look at him in slight confusion.

"A book." Castiel answered simply.

"Well, I can see that." Dean said, rolling his eyes. "But what is it about?" He asked, placing his lips just underneath Castiel's ear. The small intake of air telling him that that was a tender spot, and he made a mental not of it for later.

"I'm still trying to find a way of stripping you of that mark, without keeping you locked up in here." He answered, flipping through the pages. "Unfortunately, the topic is woefully under documented. There is no information in any of these." He said, face scrunched in irritation. Dean noticing the pitch in his voice becoming darker in anger.

"We'll find a way." Dean said, giving Castiel's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "I'm getting a bit better, I mean, yeah the thing hurts like a bitch, and sometimes I have trouble distinguishing reality from my own hallucinations. But the meds are helping with the headaches and nausea." He consoled. Castiel placing a hand on his face, looking up at him.

"You still have a fever." He said, dishearteningly.

"But it's not as bad as it could be. I mean, I haven't had an ice bath in days. So that's something." Dean joked.

"I'm just worried about you." Castiel admitted. "Sam's helping when he can, but between keeping your father busy, and trying to hide it from him. He can't help as much as he wants to." He stated, looking back down at the books. "That's why he was happy that you guys have the cars to work on. It gives him the opportunity to help, while you keep your father busy. Who knows what would happen if he found out about this."

"Ahhh, so now the truth comes out." Dean said, as if he'd made a great discovery. He knew there was a reason behind Sam going with them, and making a point of getting everything that was necessary. He was doing his best to help find something to distract his father. Great, now Dean felt obligated to keep John happy so Sam and Castiel could find a way of curing him.

He sat down on the table and watched Castiel flip through the pages of the book in front of him. He was happy that his brother and friend where doing their best to help him, and not leaving it to the original idea that he could just be better after stopping cold turkey. It made him feel just that bit more cared about. He was made even more happy by the fact that Castiel had opted to stay close, for support, and not gone out on his own to try and find a way to help him.

He liked that the best. With Castiel here, he knew he was safe, he was alive. When Castiel left, he was always at the back of his mind. Wondering if he was ever going to see him again. He'd been even more scared of the thought when Castiel had been human last year. He hadn't wanted to make Castiel leave, but he'd been backed into a corner. He wanted to go with him a time or two, but he would have been to worried about Sam as a trade off.

He was, however, very proud of the way Castiel had adapted. Proved that if he ever had to, he could make it on his own. Though Dean didn't want it to come to that. Not at all, he wanted to be there. He wanted Castiel close, safe, and happy. He had talked to Castiel about Gadreel, but he still felt like he should have apologized better.

Thinking about that, he leaned down and guided Castiel's head from the book to his lips. Kissing him slowly, pouring all of the feelings he'd been keeping locked up into it. He felt Castiel's hands move to his shoulder, and the small of his back. Looking for closeness. He pulled Castiel out of his chair, and spread his legs wider so Castiel could stand between them. He smiled pulling Castiel closer, wrapping his arms around his waist.

Castiel situated himself between Dean's legs and leaned forward, claiming Dean's mouth in his own again. His hands laying flat on the table, on either side of Dean's hips. When Dean felt a tongue lick across his lips, he opened his mouth, allowing Castiel access. Sucking Castiel's tongue deeper into his mouth, running his own around it, he could hear Castiel moan.

"You know what really helps me get better?" Dean asked, breaking away from Castiel with a smile.

"What?" Castiel asked, kissing along his jawline before sucking on his ear.

"This." Dean answered, letting out slow groan at Castiel's ministrations as he hit a pressure point. Catching Castiel's lips again, thrusting his tongue into his mouth. He leaned down on the table, Castiel following his movements so that he was bending over on top of him. Dean spreading his legs wider to give Castiel more room. Their bodies flush against each other.

Castiel broke the kiss, and moved further down to work on his neck. Dean could feel the perpetual stubble that always decorated Castiel's face graze him, as Castiel bit into the nape of his neck before licking over the bite and sucking. Dean knew he was going to have to wear something to cover that spot in the morning, but at the time, he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was Castiel's mouth that had migrated to his collarbone, kissing along the indention, before going right back up to his lips.

Dean could feel his pants getting uncomfortably tight, and after the previous make out session he'd had a couple nights ago, that ended horribly with the uninvited arrival of his father. He could use something a bit more intense. His hands played with the edges of Castiel's shirt, pulling them up to expose the skin. Letting his fingers explore what he could reach, feeling Castiel's flat, toned stomach. Just a small amount of hair leading down from his stomach to the top of his jeans, and under.

He pushed his hands up further and around his torso, felling the muscle on Castiel's back, contorting to their owner's movements as he continued to kiss Dean's neck and shoulders. Sliding his hands on as much of Dean's chest as he could reach through the cotton of his shirt, driving him crazy. Dean could feel Castiel's own hardness pressing into his thigh, just a couple of inches away from Dean's own. He felt one of Castiel's hands curl at the back of his head, dragging it back by his hair to give Castiel's mouth better access to his jaw and neck.

"Cas, don't stop." He pleaded, running his hands over every bit of skin he could.

Dean needed this, his body was screaming for it. For some kind of release. He'd been denied this feeling for too long, so caught up in the job and the mark. He needed something to take his mind off it, and this felt so good. Castiel's ministrations on his body where a thing of the Gods, how he took his time to learn everything he could about Dean. What made him moan, and gasp when he touched that spot, just under his jaw. Everything Castiel was doing was made infinitely better when their clothed erections lined up with each other, finally.

Castiel moaned into Dean's mouth when he pushed his hips up to rub against the hardness inside Castiel's jeans. He smiled into the kiss as he did it again, eliciting another moan from Castiel's throat. He was really enjoying that sound. He liked the fact that it was him doing this to his shy, awkward Angel.

Castiel then pushed down harder on Dean's erection, pulling a moan of his own out of Dean. Repeating the process, Castiel had to break the kiss, gasping into Dean's neck as he started a slow rhythm. Pulling Dean's pleasure from him at a tortuously slow pace, Dean leaning his head back as he let Castiel set the pace. This is what he wanted, what his body had been craving for the past few days. This all powerful feeling, building in his stomach. He needed more.

"Cas." Dean begged, his voice drawing out into a guttural growl. Making Castiel pick up the pace a bit, as he latched onto Dean's neck again. Sucking, Dean felt, the very color off his skin. He heard Castiel panting, the pace taking it's toll on him as well. He felt Castiel's thrust becoming more erratic, speeding up as he near his orgasm.

Dean was close, so very close, he could feel it. On the very edge when Castiel pulled his head back by his hair, and started biting down on his pulse point. Sucking the skin hungrily as he soothed it. Castiel's moaning so close to his ear, drove him over as he did everything he could to stop himself from screaming as his orgasm rushed through him. Barely remembering that they where in the library, and anybody could walk by or hear them at any moment.

Castiel slowed his thrust as he rode through his own orgasm. Trembling lips connecting with Dean's for a moment, before they both needed breath. Panting in each other's air as Castiel pressed his forehead to Dean's.

Dean smiled, giving a little chuckle as he regained his composure. He ran his hands through Castiel's short hair, sweat dampened and messy. He smelled of books, and Earth, and Castiel. He looked into those beautiful blue eyes, pupils blown with lust, and excitement, but heavy lidded in satisfaction. How had he not looked at them earlier, he had no idea. He kissed along Castiel's hair line, tasting the sweat that had built up there, because of him, before sucking on his ear.

"Dean." Castiel almost wined. "If you want to continue this, that's fine. But maybe we should go somewhere a bit more private." He suggested, littering Dean's neck with little pecks.

"Yeah, your probably right." Dean agreed, sitting up as Castiel stood back. His pants had started to become uncomfortably sticky and he winced when he took a step. "Your bed or mine?" He asked, grabbing Castiel by the hand, and walking out of the room.

"Maybe your's this time." Castiel answered, with a satisfied smile. "It's bigger." He stated, walking Dean to his room. Then Dean remembered something, and groaned.

"We can't. My Dad has a tendency to just walk in." Dean complained, leaning against the wall. Damn his father and his stupid no boundaries rules. So they lived in close quarters for most of their lives. The whole things with separate rooms on either side of the bunkers was so that everyone could have some privacy.

"My room." Castiel suggested breath still coming out in heavy puffs, and how Dean loved that he called it his room. Like it was permanent. That room would always be Castiel's, even if they started staying in the same bed every night. It was Castiel's, and that's that.

"Yeah." Dean said, walking down the hall again. "But I would have to be at my own again before my father gets up." He warned, opening the door and pulling Castiel in with him.

"I know, you did the same thing this morning. Although you barely made it." Castiel stated, moving to his bed and sitting down. "But perhaps we should sleep. He is going to want to wake you up early."

"Yeah." Dean admitted disappointingly, pulling off his shirt and jeans, climbing into bed with him. He was going to pay for it in the morning. But he felt it was worth it.

* * *

><p>There you go. I hope you all enjoyed. This is my first ever love scene, so please be gentle. I'd never written anything like that before.<p>

Anyhoo, hope you all have a good day.


	15. Chapter 15:Let's Go On A Hunt

Warning: Here be blowjobs, and handjobs, and swearing.

* * *

><p>Chapter 15: Let's Go on A Hunt<p>

A few days later found John in the garage with Dean again. The cars making slow but steady progress, as the worked through the days. Using the mornings to take care of the vehicles. The afternoons to run errands, rest or whatever, and their evenings to watch movies and catch-up with eachother.

John would like to work on the cars all day. It gave him time to talk to Dean, and something to do. But he understood the need for some time to relax. He noticed during the days, how Dean would isolate himself from everyone to sit in his room and listen to music. John figured being stuck with the same people all day, even with something to do, was like torture to a energetic guy like Dean. Couple that with the extra stress he'd been dealing with, still suffering the affects of withdrawals, he probably needed some time away from people, or needed to go find a pretty girl. But the music seemed to be his only way to relax.

Dean had always been very charismatic, but not much of a people person. He knew what to say, and when to say it to get what he wanted, but he never actively sought out the company of those outside of his family, unless it was of the female persuasion. He was never one to tell people how he'd been feeling or stated his mind on certain subjects as well. Always kept everything in, and shut up about it.

Which was why, John had to go off of his own observations of his son. Dean never really complained, but he could see when he needed to get away from people. When he was getting tired of being in the garage and needed a break. From Dean holding his head for a few seconds when he thought John wasn't looking, trying to soothe a headache that just wouldn't go away, to leaning against the car when he wheeled himself out from under it, just trying to get his barrings before getting up again. There where times John would look in his eyes, and see he wasn't there. That he was lost in some kind of hallucination or flashback. Times where he looked at John as if he didn't trust him, like he was fighting that fight or flight reflex.

It broke John's heart to see what had become of his little soldier. The kid that had been so full of life, and such a good care taker to his brother and father. Who had made his first kill at the young age of sixteen, and celebrated with his first beer from his old man. Had grown into a man that was so broken and self-destructive. He really did do a number on his kids, but he thought Dean may have suffered the most.

He looked over at Dean, shoulder deep in the Bentley Castiel had leaned against when he had found them talking in the garage. John still wondered about that. Why would they have to come to the garage to talk. There where plenty of more comfortable places in the bunker to do so. But then again, the boys where practically raised in the car. It was probably more of a security thing for Dean, now more then ever. It didn't surprise John at all that he rebuilt it.

Dean was talking to him more now, but he noticed that Dean was still gravitating to Castiel. Maybe Sam had been right, it was easier to talk about things with someone that wasn't family. Castiel certainly gave off the feeling that you wouldn't be judged if you decided to confide in him. Maybe that was what made John dislike him. He was a bit too open and excepting, while simultaneously stiff and stoic.

He heard a clatter on the floor, and looked over to Dean. He was bending down to retrieve the fallen tool. Face full of concentration, and swearing under his breathe. John could see his hand shaking, as Dean pulled it into the other hand and started to crack his knuckles. Trying to cover up his frustration, and avoid getting caught. John took a look at the time before clearing his throat.

"What do ya' say we call it a day, Deano." John suggested, putting his tools down and wiping his hands on the rag in his pockets. "I think Sam might have lunch about ready. Maybe we should clean up before he calls us."

"Alright." Dean said, putting his tools back in his box and wiping his hands on his own rag. He walked out of the room, stretching his arms. John figured, heading for the shower.

He washed his hands and walked into the kitchen to find Castiel mixing a bowl of what looked like tuna. Sam giving him pointers here and there on what to put in it, and putting pieces of bread on plates, with some chips. He walked down the hall to his room, intending on a very quick shower.

When he returned, he found Castiel setting the table, and talking animatedly to Dean about something he'd read. Dean was smiling, but it was that smile John recognized as the smile he wore when everything was going completely over his head. But he was trying to understand. He walked over to the table to take a seat, choosing the chair across from Dean.

Lunch was simple and quite, everybody consumed in their own thoughts. Dean finished quickly, and excused himself. Putting his plate in the sink and washing it off. John watched him walking out of the room, and noticed Castiel doing the same before going back to his food.

"So, what have you two been looking up while Dean and I have been working?" John asked, looking to his youngest, who stopped mid bite. "I know you two are working on something, I just want to know if it's a hunt or something."

"Not really." Sam answered. "We're just trying organize the library. This place is old and the system is ancient. Doesn't really make any sense, so we thought we'd look through all the books, and categorize them for what they cover, as apposed to what language they where written in. Or what time period they had been written."

"So you guys are reading all those books so you know where to put them?" John asked, gesturing between the two of them. "Wouldn't it be easier to just skim through them?"

"Yes." Castiel answered simply. "But one can never know to much information. You never know when it will come in handy." He said, getting up and cleaning his own plate before walking out of the room.

"He's a really weird guy." John said, pointing in the direction Castiel had left. Sam just shrugged before picking up his own plate.

"Always has been." Was Sam's easy reply.

* * *

><p>Dean laid down on his bed, letting the music wash over him. Taking away a large amount of tension he had built up. His shoulders hurt like a bitch. He supposed that was supposed to be expected when you spent your morning bent over the hood of a Bentley. Don't get him wrong, he loved cars, but sometimes, they where a pain in the ass to take care of.<p>

He heard a knock at the door, and sat up sighing to himself. Was is a crime to want some time alone for a few minutes. He walked over to it and turned the knob, finding a shifty Castiel standing there. He smiled and stepped to the side, allowing Castiel access, then checking the halls to make sure no one was coming. He closed the door silently and locked it, but kept his radio on.

"Hi." He said, leaning down to give Castiel a small kiss. "Come here often?" He asked with a cheesy smile. He knew it was a bad line, but he didn't care. Castiel rolled his eyes.

"Get on the bed." Castiel ordered, Dean raising an eye-brow in interest as he obeyed.

"Alright, but are you going to make it worth my time?" He asked again, as he laid down and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Lie on you stomach, and take your shirt off." Was Castiel's only reply, walking over to stand next to the bed.

"Whoa, Cas, we haven't even talked about that stuff yet." Dean said, his mind immediately gone to what that could mean. He hadn't bottomed in awhile, and he had hoped that they would talk about that before they did anything.

"Dean." Castiel reprimanded, giving a long suffering sigh.

"Alright, alright." Dean conceded, pulling off his shirt, and laying down on his stomach. "I gotta admit, I love it when you take charge. All in control, and I can smite you if I so please and such." He joked.

He felt Castiel climb on the bed, and straddling his hips. He looked back to see that Castiel was still fully clothed, but had rolled up his sleeves. He heard the opening of a cap, and then felt a hand, covered in some cool substance start messaging his shoulders. 'So that's what it was.' Dean thought as Castiel started to work on the knots in his muscles. Slowly working the tension out. Castiel's hands where smooth, but strong. Dean liking the power behind them, but appreciating the fact that Castiel was being gentle with him. Knowing he could seriously hurt him if he wasn't careful.

The cool substance that Castiel had been messaging into his skin had started to heat up, relaxing his muscles even more. Even if it did burn, the warmth was good, and he wasn't about to complain about Castiel sitting on top of him. He didn't know a soul who would.

He let out a groan as Castiel worked a particularly vicious knot out of his shoulder. He felt Castiel move further down his back, messaging the area around his spine. He noticed his headache was easing up, for the first time in days. Glad that he could remember what that felt like now. It felt good, with Castiel's hands moving down his body like that.

His breath was coming in pants now, and he could feel his blood flowing an a whole different direction. Castiel's hands on him was definitely making a certain part of his anatomy rise to the occasion. As they left a trail of fire over his skin as he worked.

"Oh God, Cas don't stop." Dean groaned, as the Angel worked on his lower back. He had the hands of a healer, Dean would swear. With every knead Castiel put his whole body behind it. Hips moving over his own, driving him deeper into the bed.

"Is your back feeling better?" Castiel asked, leaning down to whisper in his ear. Dean swearing his Angel was going to destroy him. He was already hard, why did Castiel have to do that. He found out when Castiel took Dean's lobe in his mouth and bit down. He was apparently not the only one who was getting excited.

"Fuck yes." Dean answered, voice almost whimpering. Castiel kneaded his lower back, just adding onto the feeling in Dean's stomach. "God Cas, what are you doing to me?" Castiel stopped, which is exactly what Dean did not want. He groaned in his frustration.

"Are you in pain?" Castiel asked, voice concerned. Dean started to turn around, Castiel lifting himself up to give him room. Once he turned himself around, so that he was facing Castiel, he smiled.

"No." Dean answered, pulling Castiel down. "It was_ really_ good." He said, lifting himself up to connect his lips with Castiel's. Messaging the other's lips with his own. Castiel opened his mouth and bade him entrance, moaning around Dean's tongue. Dean broke off from the kiss, looking into the eyes of the man he desired. "Where is everyone else?" He asked.

"Sam's in the library, and your father left to go look at a couple more part stores. Then probably get a drink." Castiel answered. "He seemed to think it best to keep it out of the house, so as not to temp you, or rub it in your face, or something." He said with a smile, leaning down to kiss Dean in a long, passionate kiss.

Dean thought about that. If John was gone, he would be gone a few hours. Sam would not just barge into his room, he'd learned that lesson when he'd walked in on Dean in a motel years ago. The music would provide a decent cover for any noise they made. He sent Castiel a sly smile, and sat up. Reaching for his nightstand drawer, he shuffled around inside, looking for something. He stopped, unable to find what he was looking for. He turned to look, finding that aside from a few receipts, and fake I.D.'s, there was nothing in there.

"What?" Dean asked in a panic, looking deeper into the drawer, shoving everything aside, and checking the others as well. "Oh, no, no, no." He complained, as he dug around the drawers.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Castiel asked, watching Dean's frantic motions.

"I don't have any lube." He answered, collapsing on his back in frustration. "Damn it." He said, hitting his head against the headboard. Letting out a long suffering breath.

"Oh." Castiel said, then smiled and leaned down to capture Dean's lips again. Before moving down his neck to his shoulders. Sucking on a small bit of Dean's skin with every kiss. Running his hands up and down Dean's torso, circling his thumbs along his sides.

Castiel kissed down Dean's arm, paying special attention to the barely there scar he'd left years ago. Dean moaned when Castiel moved over to his nipple, licking and sucking around it, while his other hand worked around the top of Dean's pants. Unbuttoning them, and pulling down the zipper.

"Cas, I told you I don't have anything." Dean reminded, as Castiel inched his hand down the inside of Dean's underwear. Grabbing at the base of his erection, and slowly moving it along his shaft.

"That doesn't mean I can't help you a bit with all this stress you're dealing with." Castiel purred into Dean's ear before attacking his other nipple with his tongue.

"Your going to kill me, if you don't speed up that hand then." Dean countered, looking up at Castiel in impatience. Castiel pulled his hand out of Dean's boxers, and kissed him slowly for a long moment. Dean whimpering at the loss of contact.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind." Castiel bit out, using both hands to pull Dean's pants down to his thighs, Dean's cock breaking free of it's clothe confines, and hitting him in the stomach.

Dean watched as Castiel kissed and licked his way down his abdomen, pausing at each of his nipples, biting and licking them as he moved on, leaving trails of fire over Dean's skin where ever he touched. Castiel pecked the head of his cock, eliciting a small gasp from Dean before licking a strip up the underside along the vein. Castiel ducking down in between his legs to suck at his inner thighs before his hands started sliding up and down the cleft of his cheeks.

"Where the hell did you learn how to do this?" Dean asked, watching Castiel as he nipped at his balls. Then letting out a rather undignified squeak when he felt a finger at a hole he hadn't even realized he had. "And don't do that." He ordered, springing up in the bed and closing his legs. Castiel raising his hands in apology.

"Okay, this is good, we're learning." Castiel said, crawling back up to Dean's lips, giving him a small kiss. "I apologized, I had heard that some men enjoyed that. As to where I learned it, I have watched mankind for a millennium. I picked up a few things here and there." He explained, giving Dean another apologetic kiss. Putting his hands on Dean's thighs and lowering them down to the bed before spreading them out again. Dean accommodating him, and leaning back. Closing his eyes as Castiel's mouth covered head, licking and sucking, before moving down his shaft.

He let out a gasp as he felt that warm wetness surround him. Castiel's tongue licking up and down the vein on the bottom as he moaned, the vibrations driving Dean crazy. His hand shot down to Castiel's head, grabbing a hand full of hair and pulling, urging Castiel to move. Castiel obliged, bobbing his head up and down a few times, allowing Dean to control the pace. Dean listened as Castiel made the most sinful slurping sounds, as he pumped his fist around the base of Dean's cock. Twisting it just right.

Dean couldn't help himself when he started thrusting upwards, Castiel's mouth felt so good over his cock, but Castiel seemed to sense what was happening. Stopping his ministrations to let Dean fuck into his mouth, his tongue working over Dean's erection with amazing ability. Licking his slit every time Dean pulled back, almost fully out before sliding back in. Mindful of not making Castiel choke. Dean's pants becoming a litany of Castiel's name, half formed and punctuated with the occasional moan or gasp.

Dean could feel his orgasm building, the warmth spreading through him. He stopped his thrusting, looking down at Castiel and running his fingers through his hair. Those blues eyes looking up at him in understanding as he pulled off with a pop. Jerking Dean's dick with his hand, moving to kiss up Dean's neck and jaw.

Castiel continued to jerk on Dean's dick, while sucking on his neck. Dean's breath picking up as the pressure increased in his stomach. He felt when Castiel's other hand, that wasn't currently pleasuring him, disappeared from his thigh. He heard Castiel moan into his neck, the vibrations coming from his throat adding just that much more pleasure to what he was feeling. Building up to him until he fell over the edge, groaning Castiel's name loudly as his cum spilled out over his stomach. Castiel's teeth digging into his shoulder as he followed Dean to his completion. He rode out his high, letting his breath calm, and the fuzzy feeling leave his mind before looking to a satisfied Castiel leaning on his shoulder, watching him.

"You are amazing." Dean said, grabbing his face and turning towards him. Kissing him long and deep, tasting himself in Castiel's mouth. "Give me a minute before I move again." He said, Castiel climbing off of him, and grabbing a shirt from the hamper to clean them up.

"No need." Castiel told him, wiping his dirty shirt over his stomach, hiding any evidence of what they had just done. Dean laid there, pulling Castiel closer, as he wrapped his arms around his chest.

It was a few minutes before he heard Castiel's breath even out, and he looked down to find him sleeping. He smiled to himself, noting that Castiel hadn't even take a moment to tuck himself back into his pants in his haste to clean Dean. He could get used to this, he thought, his body humming in the afterglow.

* * *

><p>John returned to the bunker after nightfall. He'd managed to find what he'd needed, and stopped at the bar. Stopping himself from drinking to much, remembering that he needed to drive back home. Also remembering that his oldest is having an issue with alcohol, and maybe some other drugs, so he didn't want to smell like it either. He needed to set a good example.<p>

While out, however, he had heard some people talking about what could possibly be a werewolf attack, just an hour away. He wondered if any other hunters knew about it. He considered taking it himself, maybe take one of his boys with him. Dean may not be in a fighting condition, but he could do research. The cars would be there when they got back, no big worries there. He was sure Dean would jump at the chance of leaving the bunker for a few days, he would just have to convince Sam of it.

Parking the Impala in the garage, he made his way to the library. Finding his youngest sitting in there alone. Looking through the books on the table, picking one up and placing it on the shelf. He cleared his throat, getting his son's attention. Sam looked up at his intrusion.

"Hey." He said, picking up another book and opening it.

"Hey." John said, walking in and looking at the book titles.

"How'd everything go?" Sam asked, scanning through the pages, before putting it on the shelf, at a completely opposite place as the last.

"Fine." John answered, then decided to dive right in. "Listen, while I was out. I heard some people talking." He started. "From the sounds of it, there is a werewolf a few towns over. I was thinking that we could go and take it out. Just get out of the house for a couple of days." He suggested.

"We, as in you and me." Sam clarified, sitting down with a suspicious look.

"As in you, me, and Dean." John answered.

"No." Sam said, shaking his head.

"Sam, it would be good for Dean to get out for a few days." John tried to reason. Sam rolled his eyes.

"No, it wouldn't. Look, if you want to go on a hunt, fine. I knew you wouldn't stay here very long anyway." Sam said, voice displaying just how disappointed he was. John had to admit, that hurt. His kids really didn't believe him when he said he would stay. He guessed he was proving their theory, but it still stung. "But Dean is in no fit shape, I could go with you, but Dean is staying here."

"I'm not leaving Dean here alone with that man, by himself for a few days." John shot, getting defensive. "Be mad all you want, but we are talking about people's lives. I think it would be best if we all went, and that Cas guy could go do something on his own."

"Well, Dad, it's either leave Dean here with Cas, go alone, or no hunt. Unless you want to take Cas or me, I'm not seeing another option here." Sam said.

"Who are you to tell me what to do? I am your father." John shot back, Sam rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, and you've been dead for the past ten years. You have no idea how this could affect Dean. Hell, you said yourself when you got here that Dean shouldn't even be hunting." Sam argued, apparently that boy still had his temper, it had just gotten more controlled.

"Which is why he would work on the research." John explained. "He can do that much, can't he."

"Dean's not going to go for that, and you know it. He would sooner get himself killed then let us go out and get hurt while he stays behind." Sam returned, looking his father in the eye. "Hell, why don't you take Cas. He's good, and maybe then you two could get along better. If you don't want to leave Dean alone with Cas, leave him alone with me. Get to know the guy, then maybe you would trust him a bit more, see that he's actually a decent person." Sam suggested in a huff, turning back to the books.

John thought about that. Maybe if he was alone with the guy, he could figure him out better. See what he was really up to, and make sure that he was actually trustworthy, not just waiting for the right time to screw them all over.

"Maybe I will." John agreed, rubbing his hands on his face. He needed a hunt, he knew it. He would like to take his children, just like old times. But he also had a feeling that he wouldn't get to for awhile.

"Good." Sam said, getting up and walking out of the room. "You should."

John sat for a moment thinking. Why the Hell shouldn't he get to know the guy better. He would at least be making an effort for his sons. He never did know his children's friends, when he did have the chance. Kids where kids in his mind. No sense in getting to know them if there was just going to be a new kid a few weeks later.

But Castiel seemed to be sticking with them. Maybe because he was a hunter, John didn't know. But he knew this, he'd have it figured out soon enough.

* * *

><p>Yay, another chapter. I so happy. I think my updates will be a bit slower now. Just one chapter a weekend, maybe two depending on how much writing I get done in the week. Right now I'm going through writers block, but this is still my longest fic yet. So I'm proud of myself.<p>

Anyway, hoped you liked, and remember, reviews make my day better.

Criticism accepted because I'm still new to the writing smut business, but I'm trying.


	16. Chapter 16:A Hunting We Will Go

Chapter 16: A Hunting We Will Go

Two days later, found John and Castiel packing up the car. Dean watching from the door, arms crossed over his chest in silent disapproval. John could understand why, he probably wanted to go. Wanted to get out of here, and into something that got the blood pumping. Hell, it was why_ he_ was going out.

He looked over to Castiel, who was going over a checklist he'd made. Looking over the paper in his hands, file underneath it containing the details of the case. He was organized, John had to give him that. But he seemed to be questioning everything John said.

When they where finished, they pulled out. Sam pulling Dean out of the doorway and into the bunker. Once clear of the bunker, John looked over at Castiel, who was going over the witness testimonies, and news paper articles.

"So." John said, to break the silence. "What kinda hunts have you done in the past? Worked any werewolf cases?" He asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Not many. I worked mostly in Demonic activity, a few other cases here and there. But mostly just the Demon stuff." He answered curtly.

"What, Demon's killed someone close to you or something?" He asked. He understood the majority of hunters who specialized in one creature usually harbored some kind of grudge.

"Five of my brothers." Castiel answered without looking up. John looked over at him, his face twisted in surprise. Boy came from a big family.

"Five of your brothers possessed?" John asked in disbelief.

"No, not possessed. Killed." Castiel answered simply.

"Do you mind me asking how?" John asked, watching Castiel for some kind of emotion. The mans face remained neutral as he spoke.

"We had discovered a very powerful Demon, the first Demon, Lilith. She was attempting to break the second seal to bring about the Apocalypse. We intervened, but we couldn't stop it. Lilith escaped, the second seal had been broken, the witnesses risen, and my brothers dead." Castiel told him, his voice remaining steady.

"All of you where hunters?" John asked, wondering what hunter in his right mind would have so many kids. "Where your parents hunters?"

"Don't know. I don't really know my parents. When I say brothers, I mean those that I grew up with, trained with." Castiel said simply. John listening to what he'd said, and thinking about for a moment.

Did that mean that Castiel was raised to be a hunter. By some kind of organization that took children, and trained them just for that purpose. If that where the case, why had he never heard of anything like that before? But it would certainly explain the fact that the guy seemed emotionally dead inside. May have been trained to keep himself in check or something.

"So, you've been hunting for how long?" John asked, deciding he would keep those thoughts to himself until he knew more.

"Most of my life." Castiel answered, flipping through the pages in the files. "I'm sorry, but this doesn't look like your average werewolf case. The lunar cycle is wrong. I think there might be something more to this." Castiel said, flipping through the pages.

"What?" John asked, the lunar cycle was right, he'd checked that himself. "No, it's a werewolf, I checked it myself."

"No, it looks more like a copy-cat. The attacks are happening a day too early or late. Barely noticeable unless you have a keen understanding of when a werewolf actually turns." Castiel argued. "Something is making it look like werewolf attacks. Could be some sort of Demon, or witch trying to hide what they are doing. The heart is useful for other things, powerful spells, rituals, maybe a form of tribute to some God. A sacrifice maybe, that requires the heart being cut out and eaten. That is if they are even eating it. They could just be making it look that way." He said, looking at the news paper articles, few pictures that there where.

This was going to be fun. John thought to himself, rolling his eyes. The guys was obviously too well informed, finding imanginary patterns in something simple.

* * *

><p>Dean watched them go with a sinking suspicion that this was not going to go well. That whatever happened on this trip, one of them was not coming back happy. Maybe even not at all. No, he didn't want to think like that. His father was known for taking risks, but Castiel was going to keep them both alive.<p>

Maybe he was just paranoid, and a bit upset. He wasn't going to see Castiel for at least a couple of days, putting a crimp in his mood. His main outlet for stress relief was leaving, though he had promised Dean last night he would be back in a couple of days. Telling him not to worry about them, and to rest. Talk with Sam about everything if he could.

Dean thought he should, not just the whole sneaking into each other's room at night thing either. The past few days, they had been sitting up talking about what Castiel would say to John if he got to nosy. How they would explain a few things, while convincing John that he was still human. While still incorporating quite a bit of truth so that Castiel could remember it. They also didn't know exactly how much Sam had told John, requiring a great amount of subtlety on Dean's part to get that information out of both of them.

They had eventually settled on a story they thought would work. Deciding that telling John that Castiel had been trained since childhood by some secret, underground organization like men in black, was the best option. The kind of place that let most hunters do their thing, while they focused on the big, end of the world stuff. It was half true. Dean told Castiel that it would stop John from questioning his stiff exterior, and maybe stop thinking he wasn't human. Just gone under some super intense training. Castiel had his doubts about how that seemed more believable then him just telling them that he'd just been a hunter for years, and he was a high functioning autistic. But he rehearsed the story over and over until he had it down, and could pass it off as the truth. Letting Dean know, in no uncertain terms, how cute he thought Dean's action movie fetish was.

Dean and Sam sat in the library, looking through the books Castiel had book marked for helping him. Dean finding nothing he thought would help as he poured over the pages of the books. The small, or hand written writing doing nothing to help the pounding in his head.

He closed his third book, and ran his hands down his face. Closing his eyes, he messaged his temples, trying to get rid of the constant pain. Or at least, try to give himself some relief. His head hadn't hurt this bad in a week. Not since he and Castiel had hooked up on the table he was currently sitting at.

"Dean." He heard Sam say from behind him. "Are you okay?" Sam asked him, sitting down next to him. A hand shooting up to his forehead, checking his temperature. "You do have a fever." He observed worriedly.

"I'm fine, Sammy." Dean bit out, batting his hand away.

"Sure you are." Sam said, rolling his eyes and pulling the book away from Dean before closing it. He walked out of the room for a few minutes, returning with a mug and a small cup of pills. "Here take those, and that tea is supposed to have calming effects. Maybe it'll help." He said, sitting down and opening his own book again.

"I don't need calming juice, Sam." Dean growled, rubbing his temples.

"Uh-huh." Sam said, already focusing on his book. Dean rolled his eyes, and downed the pills before using the tea to wash them down. The stuff tasted week, and bitter at the same time. He couldn't understand at all how it was supposed to help. Dean cleared his throat after setting down his mug, watching Sam.

"Yes." Sam asked, looking up from his book.

"Okay, so." Dean started, rolling his shoulders. "With Dad taking Cas on this hunt. We thought it was best to change the story up a bit. How we met, what Cas was doing before we met him, stuff like that." Dean started.

"I know, kinda figured it out when you where asking me what I'd told Dad. Your not as subtle as you think." Sam said, shaking his head. Dean sighed, rolling his eyes at his brother who was smirking at him.

"Alright, shut up." Dean said. "Look, we came up with a story that was full of half-truths, but I need you to go along with it. We both know what Dad will be like if he finds out Cas is really an Angel." He explained, staring at his brother leaving no room for disagreement.

"Yeah, your right on that. I can do that, but can Cas?" Sam asked, looking at his brother skeptically. "He's not exactly the best liar."

"That's why we kept a lot of stuff true. Just changing a few of the details. Cas'll be fine, we rehearsed it." Dean said, taking another sip of tea.

"So that's what you two have been doing lately. I'd thought..." Sam started, but then looked at his brother before shaking his head.

"What?" Dean asked, watching his brother.

"Oh, it's nothing." Sam said, getting up and walking out of the room.

* * *

><p>John rolled his eyes for what must have been the twentieth time since coming to the police station to look at the bodies of the victims. It was obvious, Castiel was no good at dealing with people, and had no qualms about looking weird. If he's really been hunting for years, he should have a handle on people. But maybe he just hunted the monsters, and avoided the whole people mess. That would explain why he choose to work with Dean and Sam. They had the people skills to take care of the leg work, while he provided an extra hand in the actual fighting.<p>

They had set up at a small motel, then went straight to the police station. Flashing the FBI badges and spinning a yarn that they where there to help with the strange murders.

"But these are animal attacks." The sheriff had said, looking at them suspiciously. His brown eye-brows raising in question.

"Or a copy-cat." Castiel had stated bluntly. Putting his badge back in his coat pocket. It was ninety degrees outside, how could he be wearing a coat. John assumed it was for intimidation, it sure had a way of making him look bigger.

"Copy-cat, of an animal." The sheriff said skeptically, looking at Castiel in bewilderment. "Okay buddy, sure." He said, chuckling. He turned to John in sympathy, shaking his head. "Must hate getting stuck with the rookies, huh?" He asked.

"Yeah, but what can I say. Someone needs to train them right." John said, chuckling uneasily. Castiel seemed to have something to say, but John stamped on his foot to silence him. "If you don't mind, we would really like to take a look at the bodies. See if there is anything too this."

"Sure, knock yourselves out." The sheriff said, walking them to the back of the building. "But I'm telling you, there's really nothing to see."

"Or maybe you just didn't look at everything properly." Castiel started, scribbling on a piece of paper. John rolled his eyes and poked him in the side.

"We're sure there isn't, but we needed to cover all the bases." John consoled, patting the sheriff on the shoulders. "You know how it is."

"All right." He said, opening the door, and showing them in. He walked them to a wall full of large drawers that looked like files cabinets. Pulling out one of the latest victims, and standing aside for them to look.

John stepped forward, taking in the torn look of the guy. The wounds looking a lot like claw marks to him. Castiel stood across from him, checking the guys hair, and finger nails, before bending down and taking a long sniff. John internally groaned, how the hell was he supposed to explain that.

"Did he just smell that dead man?" Sheriff asked, watching Castiel, horrified. John had to cough a couple times to come up with an excuse.

"He's a bit weird, you know. One of those beautiful mind, genius types." He tried to convince, taking a moment to glare at Castiel who was not looking at him. To enthralled in his observations. "Listen, why don't you go get yourself a cup of coffee. This might take awhile, and my partner...He's a headache on the best of days, I would hate to impose him upon you more then necessary. We'll show ourselves out when we're done." He said, hoping to give a convincing nod to the sheriff, sending another look at Castiel as if he thought maybe he should be calling the guys with the nice padded rooms, and hug-myself jackets.

Once the sheriff had left, he turned to Castiel. Running a hand down his face in frustration. He let out a long sigh, before starting in on the guy.

"Do you mind not sniffing the dead guy?" He asked, Castiel raising his head when addressed. Face showing confusion.

"Why not?" Castiel asked, turning back to the corpse. "If I hadn't, I wouldn't be able to tell you that this is not a werewolf. He smells like sage, and..." He leaned down to sniff again. "Metal, silver to be exact. A knife was used to cut into him." He stated matter of factually.

"Your a bit touched in the head, aren't you?" John asked, he had too. Why else would he have thought to smell the victim. Castiel looked at him, face twisted in confusion as he tilted his head to the side.

"Nobody has touched my head." Castiel said, as if he where clarifying something, but did not know why.

These next few days where going to go great. John thought sarcastically, running his hand through his hair in irritation.

* * *

><p>Dean walked quietly through the halls of the bunker, taking a moment to listen down the hall Sam's room was in. Hearing nothing, he crept to the garage. They had gotten one of the cars running, and he needed to go out. He was not about to have a repeat of what happened when Castiel had come to his room the other day. Might as well go out before he gets back, and get some supplies.<p>

"Dean?" He heard from behind him, slumping his shoulders, he turned around. "I thought you went to bed." Sam continued, walking over to his brother. Dean gave him a slightly guilty smile.

"I, uh, wanted to take the old Chevy out for a test drive. You know, make sure everything works right." Dean lied, shrugging his shoulders. Sam looked at him skeptically, before nodding.

"Well, okay. I'll go with you." Sam said, walking to the garage door and opening it.

"What.." Dean started, before changing tact. "I mean, re..really?"

"Yeah, I've never seen a car that old, it would be interesting. Besides, maybe we can stop by the liquor store, and get you a drink. I know you probably want to take advantage of Dad not here, and have one." Sam said, walking in and waiting for Dean. Dean squirmed a bit before walking into the garage after his brother.

He pulled the keys off the rack they had kept them, and walked over to the car. Sam followed him into it, before he started the car and pulled out. Reminding himself that old cars ran a bit differently, and he needed to be gentle about it. They drove into town, stopping at the gas station before continuing on further. They had only put enough gas in the car to get them to a gas station, and start it when needed.

They did stop at the liquor store, but only got enough for a day or two. Wanting to make sure that it would be gone before John and Castiel returned. They drove through town a bit more before Dean said he was feeling thirsty, and stopped at a drug store. To get a drink, he'd told Sam, opening the door, and getting out. Leaving the engine running and asking Sam if he needed anything. Sam shook his head and waited in the car.

Dean walked into the drug store, and went straight to the back. Knowing exactly what he wanted. He grabbed it quickly, and picked up a soda at random, remembering his excuse for coming here. He paid the cashier, who raised his eyes brows at him, giving him a flirtatious smile. Dean didn't return it, he wasn't here to flirt, and went back to the car. Dropping his bag in the back.

"I thought you where just getting a drink?" Sam asked, looking at the bag in the back seat.

"It's nothing, I just saw it and thought that I could use it." Dean said, passing it off and hoping that Sam would buy it. Unfortunately, he didn't. Reaching back into the seat, Sam pulled the bag to his lap and looked inside, before looking at his brother in confusion.

"What's this?" He asked, turning to Dean.

"It's nothing, Sam." Dean said, continuing to drive.

"Nothing..." Sam said, looking in the bag again. "Dean, this is a bottle of lube. Now I really don't want to know about your sex life. But I can't think of a possible reason why you would pick this up. Was this what you where really going in there for and the soda was just a cover?" He asked, looking at his brother in bewilderment.

"It's none of your business." Dean said, pulling out of the parking lot and heading back to the bunker.

"Dean, are you sneaking out to go see a girl or something?" Sam asked, putting the bag in the floor. But then a look of realization on dawned on Sam's face. "I knew it, I knew it. It's Cas isn't it?" He exclaimed, pointing at Dean in excitement.

"What? No." Dean answered quickly.

"Dean, don't lie to me. I've seen it, the shared looks, the private talks. How happy you've been, and I swore I heard something coming from your room the other day. I just thought you where watching something on your laptop." Sam listed, covering his face in his hands. Mortified at the images in his head. "How long has this been going on?" Dean sighed, it's not like he could hide it from Sam. His father was clueless in more ways then one, but Sam wasn't. He would have figured it out eventually.

"I don't know, few weeks." Dean answered, thinking back. "Since the night I went to the bar. Cas pulled me away from that fight, and laid into me for attacking those guys. I was drunk, I couldn't control myself." He explained.

"Finally." Sam said, looking back out the window.

"Well, don't act like you could see this coming or anything. What do you mean, finally?" Dean snapped, turning to look at his brother.

"Road, Dean." Sam reminded. "And Dean, it's been obvious since, like a week after you met him, that you where harboring the worlds biggest crush on the guy. It's about time you two finally did something. Cause I gotta tell ya, as a third party observer, it's very uncomfortable being the go between, and sitting with you guys. I'm not really a fan of the slow burn, and your two burn slower then anything I've ever seen."

"And the fact that Cas is a guy doesn't weird you out or anything?" Dean asked, he was scared of the answer, but Sam seemed to be very understanding.

"No." Sam answered quickly. "I mean, it's not like I didn't know. I kind of went to the same school as you Dean. I heard the rumors, just figured you'd tell me when you where ready. Honestly, I'm not the only one either. I'm fairly certain Bobby had some kind of bet going with himself as to when you would come out, and it would incidentally coincide with you and Castiel's marriage announcement." He half joked, looking at Dean with a smile.

"Then how come nobody bothered to tell me about this?" Dean asked, easing up on the gas a bit. "I've been going out of my mind for years, thinking I was seeing things that weren't there. Stopping myself from doing anything, too worried about what you would think." He said, thinking back to all those years, all the jokes the others had made about him and Castiel.

"Like I said, I figured you would say something when you where ready. I didn't want to bring it up, and you get all defensive about it." Sam explained. "You seemed to be working through it on your own, I didn't want to confuse you."

"Well, that's just great." Dean sighed, pulling into the garage. "Now I just have to find a way to tell Dad." He mumbled under his breath.

"He's the real reason you where hiding it, wasn't he?" Sam asked, watching Dean with a worried look. Dean thought about that for a moment.

"Yeah." He answered simply. Opening the door and walking into the bunker. Carrying his bag to his room and putting it in his nightstand. Sam watching him go without making a sound.

* * *

><p>Hur-ray, another update. I occurred to me the other day that I could possibly have named this fic, 'You Love Is My Drug" but I had a feeling that Dean would have been mortified that I name a story with him after a Ke$ha song. So I think this is better.<p>

Dean has come out to Sam, but now it's John he has to worry about, and trust me, I have plans for that one.

Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. Just loving the feedback I'm getting from it, and wishing you all well.


	17. Chapter 17:Problems On All Fronts

Chapter 17: Problems On All Fronts

Three days into the hunt, and John was at his wit's end. Not only had they discovered that it was indeed not a werewolf, but they where no closer to figuring it out. Another murder had happened last night, and John was lost on it. Castiel was doing his best to figure it out, but in John's opinion, he was a bit smug when they cleared the werewolf theory.

What the Hell was this thing? He couldn't figure it out, and Castiel was no help, pouring over books and talking about spells that required the heart. He rolled his eyes as Castiel returned from the police station, a small bag in his hands. He dropped it in front of John, walked into the bathroom to change.

"What the hell is this?" He asked, picking up the bag.

"That was found by the body of the lasted victim." He heard shouted from the bathroom. "It's dog hair, and was covering the body. I think we might be dealing with a skin walker."

"Skin walkers don't just take the heart." John argued, they usually ate the whole thing. Like a starving dogs would attack a corpse, or they changed their victims.

"That's the part that's confusing me." Castiel admitted, walking out of the bathroom in a pair of jeans, pulling a t-shirt over his head. John catching a glimpse of some kind of sigil carved into his chest, and a tattoo of enochian lettering. As well as an Anti-possession tattoo over his heart. "Unless of course, it was a witch before it was bitten. Then it could just be looking for a cure. There is some lore about the healing abilities of the human heart. Added with the fact that it's probably getting information from Hell."

"Why would Hell be giving information on curing a skin walker. Wouldn't that just help the witch?" John tried to argue. "Cause more chaos that way." Castiel shook his head at that.

"They would loose a soul." Castiel stated simply. "They value the soul more then they enjoy the chaos. As a rule, any monster, that is to say vampires, werewolves, skinwalkers, and others like that, go to Purgatory. Witches sell their souls to Demon's for their powers." Castiel stated, sitting down at the table to look over everything. "If a witch gets bitten by a skinwalker, Hell doesn't collect on the deal. Yes, a witch can live for a very long time, most of which is spent taking orders and giving information to Demons, but they will die at some point." He reasoned, picking up a file. "But doing so while infected, Hell looses that deal."

"And how would you know the inner workings of Hell so well?" John asked suspiciously.

"Because I make it my business to know." Castiel stated defensively. "Know your enemy better then they know themselves, and all that." He explained.

"You take that very seriously then, don't you?" John mumbled under his breath. Recalling all the books of Demonology he'd seen Castiel reading.

"Takes one to know one." Castiel responded, studying the pictures of the crime scene. John looking up at that, Dean obviously rubbing off on the guy. That was one of his favorites when he was a child. Though John had never heard that phrase uttered in his direction.

"Are you sassing me, boy?" John asked, his authoritative father voice coming out.

"I am not a child. So please refrain from addressing me as so." Was Castiel's only response. Never turning away from the pictures.

"I will call you whatever I damn well please." John argued. "I may have been dead for ten years, but I'm still older then you by a long shot." He bit out, what ever happened to respecting your elders?

Castiel just stared at him blankly, as if he was the one who was acting like a child. Like he was just humoring him. Before turning back to his papers and keeping his mouth shut. John had the distinct feeling that he'd just lost whatever it was they where doing. He'd already taken this shit for three days and didn't know how much longer he would last before he put a bullet through the guys head on pure frustration.

He looked down at the paperwork, just wanting something to do. His mood wasn't going to improve until this case was over. He'd hoped that he could at least figure this guy out a bit, but all he got where more questions. He was to smart for his own good, horrible with people, but great with kids, and very stiff. Even in the way he stood and talked. John assumed it had to do with the training that he'd been through his entire life. He was hard on his kids, he knew, but he couldn't imagine giving his kids up to someplace like the one Castiel had said he was raised in. The guy acted like he'd never had fun a day in his life.

John had even attempted to get the guy to go and have a drink with him. Thinking that if he could get the guy drunk, he could get more out of him. It was one of the world's greatest truth serums. But he'd just looked at John as if he'd grown a second head, and told him that they where on a case. Apparently, unless he was with Dean or Sam, it was very hard to get the guy to loosen up.

"So, how do you know the Purgatory bit?" John asked, trying for easy conversation.

"Because I've been there with you son." Castiel answered simply. John remembered Sam mentioning something about Dean in Purgatory. John had just thought that was some weird way of saying he had taken a vacation, or some other kind of self-discovery bullshit. He guessed it was actually real.

"Sam had mentioned that. But he didn't mention you." John said, hoping to get some more information.

"We where both standing near the Leviathan when it died. We where both pulled in. Sam was, of course, very concerned about Dean. But we where both there for a year, doing our best to survive." Castiel told him. "And when Dean got out, he got out alone. Sam probably focused on that."

"How do you get out of something like that?" John asked, interest piqued.

"There was a portal, for humans only. Purgatory was made for monsters, not people." Castiel explained.

"Then why did he get out alone?" He asked, looking at Castiel. "And how did you get out?"

"The same way he did, it just moved once he went through. He tried to get me out with him, but we where overrun by Leviathan's and I stayed back to give him a clear path." He said, repeating the words Dean had told him to, unbeknownst to John.

John's respect for Castiel shooting up a few points after that. He felt he had to, the guy had basically sacrificed himself so Dean could get to safety. Which reminded him that he still owed the guy for the Molotov cocktail thing as well. He wasn't going to deny that the guy had guts, and was definitely loyal. John still couldn't place why he was having trouble liking the guy. Maybe Sam was right, and he just didn't know him well enough yet.

* * *

><p>Dean sat in his room holding his head, all the lights where off, and the music was not playing. His headache had gone from gnomes picking at his skill in search of diamonds, to full on Paul Bunyan with a chainsaw to chop his trees level. Any light was just way to bright, and any noise was far too loud. He felt like he had when he was infected with vampire blood.<p>

A knock at his door spiked through his brain, sending a fresh shot of pain in his head. He groaned as a way of answering, his brother entering. Sam mercifully left the lights off as he walked in. Dean swearing he was stomping across the floor.

"What?" He asked, his voice probably not as welcoming as it should be. But he was in pain damn it.

"You okay?" Sam asked, Dean wincing as he sat down in the chair that Castiel usually sat in.

"Does it look like I'm freaking okay?" Dean asked, pulling his hand away from his head to bark his question at his brother. But the loss of pressure just seemed to make the pain worse, and he pressed his hand to it again.

Sam chuckled, getting up and getting him a cup of water and some aspirin, suggesting that maybe Dean should have taken it easier on the booze last night as he walked out. Dean rolling his eyes, he hadn't touched the stuff. When he returned, he handed them to Dean who just glared at them. Then shook his head, looking back down at the floor.

"Come on, Dean." Sam pleaded. "They'll help you." He tried to convince, offering them to Dean again.

"Don't you think I've tried that already." Dean yelled, knocking the pills and water out of his hand. Hand going back to his head, grasping it, face scrunched in pain. What was wrong with him?

"Well, then what do you want me to do Dean?" Sam asked, trying to keep his voice quiet, but sounding like it was coming from under several feet of water. He knew his brother was in pain. He knew why, so he wasn't going to cause any more of it.

"Nothing." Dean shouted, gritting his teeth. "There is nothing you can do, Sam." He said, leaning back in his bed. He had no idea what had triggered the headaches again, but he was not happy that they had come back.

"Is it the blade? Do you need something else?" Sam asked, he did not want to know what was going on, but he wanted to help his brother. "I don't know where the blade is, but I can help if you would just tell me how." Sam pleaded.

"I don't know, Sam." Dean bit out, looking to his brother. His eyes going wide in surprise as he got up and moved away from Sam.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Sam asked, his eyes going black and a smile spreading on his face. "Oh, I see." The Demon said, stepping closer. "You need a new kill don't you." Sam's face said, pulling out a large knife and walking towards Dean.

Dean backed up in fear. The damn Demon was in his brother, what was he supposed to do. His hands went for the salt he kept on top of his dresser, throwing a handful of it at Sam. The Demon didn't stop however. Walking towards him, knife out in front, poised to stab him. He grabbed the first thing he could reach, hurling it at the demon and running out of the room.

He ran to the gun room, and picked up a sawed-off. Putting two shells in the barrel, he grabbed another handful. Putting them in his pocket, he cocked the gun and walked out of the room. The rocksalt would stop his brother from being killed, but it would hurt the Demon, and hopefully eject it out of him. He stalked down the halls, moving as silently as he could.

"Dean." He heard from around the corner. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?" The Demon sing-songed threw the halls. "I'm here to help, Dean. If you would just let me." It said, dragging a hand over the wall as it walked down the hall.

Dean waited, gun aimed for about where the shoulder would be when it came around. He controlled his breathing, counting his breaths until the Demon came into view. He pulled the trigger and fired. The Demon staggering back from the blow, yelling in pain before moving forward, dodging the next shot Dean aimed at him. He had to reload, and the Demon took the opportunity to grab the gun and slam his hand against the wall, making him let it go. The Demon threw the gun away, and held him against the wall.

"Dean." It shouted at him, holding his face steady. "Dean, it's me, it's Sam." It kept telling him, holding his face steady. "It's me, Dean. Snap out of it." It shouted at him, Dean having a hard time breathing, but trying to fight the Demon off. Yelling at it to get out of his brother. He felt a sharp pain in his cheek as a slap hit across his face.

He started to regain his breath, and he saw that the eyes had turned back to Sam's eyes. He came back to himself, seeing the gun down the hall and the blood on his shirt. He had done that, he'd shot his brother. But he was a Demon, wasn't he? He started panting, he couldn't catch his breath. He hadn't done that, he couldn't have. He sank down to the floor, tears filling his eyes. He was so lost.

* * *

><p>As it turned out. Tracking down a witch slash skinwalker was not the easiest thing in the world. John assumed it would be the most suspicious person, especially if he mentioned witchcraft in the vicinity of them. But that strategy was a bust, considering they where in a very small town. Most of the inhabitants of which, happened to be of the old and Christian variety. Therefore, anywhere he went, mentioning magic, he was met with glares and hostility.<p>

Rubbing his hands down his face, he looked over at his partner. Castiel didn't seemed fazed at all that the witch wasn't easy to find. But rather seemed to think this as a challenge. He looked at every person with the same scrutiny as he had the first time John had met him. Like he was looking into their very soul.

Something, John noticed, the locals didn't seem to appreciate. Of course they wouldn't. The one thing small town people hated was outsiders, observing to closely, and sticking their nose where it doesn't belong. Afraid they would find out all their dirty secrets and smudge up the peace of their lovely little town.

John had noticed a few things about Castiel while they had been working on the hunt however. Some of which he liked, others he thought where a bit suspicious.

For one, he had noticed that Castiel was impossibly neat, and clean. He kept everything exceptionally organized, and everything had it's proper place. He would go so far as to say he was worse then Sam in that aspect. Sam's neatness as a child causing the most friction between him and Dean.

Two, he didn't really eat much. He'd ate maybe two meals a day, if he was exerting himself. But otherwise, the guy barely ate anything, and he stuck to healthy. Only eating the unhealthy when he had no other choice. John often choosing fast food places, just to piss him off.

Three, the guy had the patience of a saint. He was virtually unflappable. Aside from a few defensive words spoken here and there, he was mostly calm. Every exchange with a person focused on the topic, and if he was insulted, he didn't let it faze him. John wondered if he could keep his cool so well when faced with Demons.

Four, for someone who barely ate, and was smaller then he was, Castiel was incredibly strong. John shuttered to think what kind of strength training he had gone through in order to move half the crap that he had without a problem. Castiel was adept at finding hidden passages, and moving the infringing items out of the way. Items John couldn't budge when he tried to move them or put them back. Figuring this out when they had come across a cave with a boulder at the entrance. They had found an altar, but no idea as to who it belonged to.

Five, the guy had the most erratic sleeping pattern John had ever seen. Only sleeping for three or four hours a night. Only going to bed when he seemed to believe he was expected to. John had yet to see the guy rub his eyes, or even yawn. Which made him seem even less human then before. There where times John swore the guy wasn't even breathing, and he stood so still it was like he was a statue.

Everything about the guy seemed to scream soldier. While at the same time saying 'I am an awkward, shy nerd, intellectual with a personal space issue'. John noticing that he wouldn't come within two feet of him, or anyone else for that matter. Always moving to the side and giving the people a wide berth unless they where really packed in. John had asked him about that, but the only reply he'd received was that tilt of the head and a frank 'People take their personal space very seriously.' He had no idea what that meant, but he assumed that Castiel just didn't like people in his personal bubble.

The one thing he was worried about was how the guy fought. He'd seen him in spars with Dean, but that was just glimpses in controlled environments. He had no idea what the guy was like in the field, where the situations where more dire. How would that awkward, shy guy handle a monster in his face, tearing at his flesh. 'Probably with the same stoic face he always had on'. John thought, rolling his eyes.

"Think I've got something." Castiel said from his bed. Old news papers and town records spread across it's surface. John never thought he could see so many papers spread out like that in such a neat way.

"What?" John asked, getting up and walking over to look at the papers.

"Gary Hayflat." Castiel answered simply, handing him a couple news paper clippings. "A few years ago he was just a regular convenience store clerk. Bad job, the owner known to have a temper and under pay his employees, while making them work constant overtime. But last year, he died of a heart attack, Gary taking over the business. Since then, he's won several competitions, and he has managed to start up another business, auto body repair. He'd opened up a new shop right next to the store, despite being out bid by someone in New York who was looking to open up another jewelry store here. That guy also falling ill and dying before the deal was closed." He told John, getting up and shuffling some papers.

"That could just be a run of good luck." John argued, in his experience, witches where usually women. Looking to gain whatever social rise they could.

"I knew you would say that." Castiel stated, grabbing another folder, and handing it to John. "Two weeks ago, he was checked into the hospital because of a dog bite he received while driving home from a business deal in Wyoming. Stopped at a rest area at night to rest and when coming out of the bathroom, the next morning, was bitten by a dog that came out of the field behind it. He didn't think much of it, so he waited until he got back home to go to the doctor and have it looked at." He finished with a satisfied air.

"When did you have the time to look all of this up?" John asked, looking over everything. It had taken him a couple of days just to convince people that he was here to look into murders. The inhabitants of the town so un-trusting, it took several times to get anything close to an answer that even had a shred of truth to it.

"While you where interviewing witnesses, I walked over to the library. Abigail was very helpful when I told her I was interested in some of the towns history, and it's inhabitants achievements." Castiel told him. "She was also forthcoming with quite a bit of information. She told me I reminded her of her late husband. Though I have no idea why." He finished with a confused expression. As if he didn't understand the relevance in that, or why she took the time to tell him.

John thought that was kick in the pants. He had been spending all day, everyday they'd had been here. Hunting down witnesses and trying to get some kind of detail out of them. While Castiel had simply gone to the library and struck up a conversation with the old lady who took care of it. Getting the information with no trouble. All because the old biddy had thought he was handsome. He wondered if his boys had the same kind of luck.

* * *

><p>Dean sat next to Sam, first-aid kit open at his side. He picked out every piece of rock salt he could find with a pair of tweezers. Guilt running through him, making his hands shake more then usual. Doing a great job, in his opinion, not breaking down and crying. He grabbed the alcohol, and poured a bit on a clothe before applying it to Sam's wounds. Hearing a gasp escape his brother's lips, as it made contact with his skin.<p>

"Sorry." Dean said, for probably the hundredth time in the past hour. Sam shrugging each of them off, like Dean had not just shot him full of salt.

"I know you didn't mean it." Sam said, putting his hand up on the opposite arm to hold the clothe steady while Dean got the sewing needle, and some dental floss.

"I should have known it was an hallucination." Dean admonished himself. "I should have seen through the shit my mind was making up and stopped myself."

"Dean, you can't help that." Sam said, breathing through his teeth as Dean started sewing up the worst of the wound. Most of them could just be bandaged, but there where a couple that went a bit deep. "I know it was an accident. I just want you to tell me what was going on."

"I don't know Sam. One minute, my head hurts and we're talking. The next, you have black eyes, and everything you say is dripping with the sarcasm Demons are so fond of." Dean said, cutting the string, and pouring some alcohol over it. Sam letting out a small hiss at the burn.

"Not just that Dean, everything." Sam said, moving the clothe so Dean could get to the rest of his wound. "I mean, your mad at Dad, your isolating yourself, and if anyone suggest anything that might help, you fly off the handle. I mean, the only one who your talking to is Cas and I get that, I really do. What's going on between you two, it's new, you need to get used to it. But your shutting everything else out. What's going on?"

"I don't know, Sam." Dean said, pulling bandages out and covering them up. "It's just, when I'm with you guys, there's this fear that I'm going to loose it and hurt you. I shot you damn it. If I stay away, there's less chance of that happening." He confessed.

"But you haven't had any major issues in the past week. Not until Cas and Dad left." Sam pointed out.

"I don't know, Sam." Dean really getting angry that it was the only answer he could give. "I have no idea why it started again. Maybe I'm just not busy enough, I mean...When Dad's here, there are the cars, and we work on them all day. When we finish, Cas is there, you know when I finish working for the day, he comes in and gives me a message."

"Whoa, Dean, I don't need the details." Sam started, raising his hands to stave Dean off from going into to much detail.

"It's not like that, you perv." Dean said, then smiled a bit remembering the first one he gave him one. "No, it's just my shoulders hurt and he rubs them for me. It actually helps with the headaches." He admitted, wondering if that was why his migraine was so bad, he hadn't had anybody to rub it away. The tension in his neck and shoulders pulling on his head as it builds up.

"Do you want me to...?" Sam started, looking at Dean as if he was hoping the answer was no.

"No, man. Fuck no, that's just too weird." Dean said quickly. "I'm just saying, I think it's just that there's a bit of distraction. When I have something to do, when my mind is focused on something, I'm not having as many problems. You know, like when someone has A.D.D., you give them several things to do at once, because that way their mind stays sharp, and they're not bored." He explained.

"Okay." Sam said, nodding his head as if he was thinking of something. "Then lets get you a distraction. Let's go out and work on some cars. Get you some puzzle books or something." He suggested, standing up and walking to the door. "Sitting here and doing nothing isn't good for you."

"Okay, you sure your going to be good, working on the cars?" Dean asked, getting up and following him.

"Yeah, I will, and if I'm not." Sam said, turning to face his brother. "You'll teach me."

* * *

><p>Hope you liked.<p> 


	18. Chapter 18:Giant Fluffy Dogs Are Not As

Chapter 18:Giant Fluffy Dogs Are Not As Lovable As They Seem

Dean sat in the gun room, pulling the weapons apart and cleaning them. The familiar movements and repetitive steps helping to clear his mind. He found comfort in the sound of the metals gliding into place, the coolness against his skin. He needed this, to get some time alone, his moods having a very short string as of late.

He wondered briefly why he'd been on edge so much recently. He wanted to blame his father, he really did. But he knew that wasn't the problem, the guy had his faults, but he had dealt with it his entire life. He thought it might be the mark for a while, not having a kill to feed it might well be altering his mood. It certainly did with his personality. But was it the only reason? He could just be suffering from cabin fever, but while Cas and John where away, he was going out more. Sam with him, of course, to make sure he didn't hurt anyone.

He looked down at the mark. His arm not quite as swollen, but still an angry red surrounded the area. It still twinged from time to time, mostly when he was angry, or was he angry because of the pain? He didn't know anymore. All he knew, was that the anger was easier to manage when Castiel was around. He provided a calming presence that helped him to think, and not lash out.

They had been gone for over a week now, and Dean was growing more anxious by the day. He just knew someone was going to get hurt on the hunt, but he didn't know who. He couldn't explain it, it was just a feeling in his gut. He'd called a few times, making sure everyone was alright, but Castiel was very tight lipped about the details. Saying he didn't want to make him worry.

Dean thought that was bullshit, he was going to worry even more if he didn't know what they where up against. They had left, thinking it was your run of the mill werewolf, but Castiel had at least admitted that that wasn't it. They where hunting something else, he just wasn't saying what.

Dean locked a magazine into the automatic he was cleaning, and let loose a few shots into the wall in frustration. He often thought about taking one of the cars and driving to them, to take out whatever it was they where hunting himself. They where apparently taking their own sweet time taking care of it.

Sighing, he stood up and walked out of the room. He was not going to work on the cars anymore until his father got back. Sam was trying, but Dean needed to be able to focus on working, and not explaining everything. He loved his brother, but when it comes to cars, he was better off just riding. The only thing the guy seemed to be able to do without supervision was a basic oil change, and tire rotation. If he wasn't working on them, he was distracting Dean with inane chatter.

He walked into his room, and turned on the radio. He let his music calm him down as much as possible. He laid down on his bed, and closed his eyes. Allowing his stress to melt off him as much as possible. The past few days where much easier then they had been in the beginning, but not quite as good as it was while Castiel was there. Off the top of his head, he could think of at least five reasons why.

Rubbing on the mark with shaky hands, he tried to quiet his mind and go to sleep. But his mind was refusing, putting pictures in his heads of what could be going on while he was asleep. He wasn't worried about monsters, but what he could potentially do while he was asleep, or when he woke up. He'd nearly killed Sam, again. The last time he'd had an hallucination, he'd gone after his little brother with a gun.

No, bad thoughts. Sam had already forgave him, saying it wasn't his fault. Which, wasn't that just his brother all over. With the forgiveness and making excuses for his and everyone else's actions. Telling Dean that everything he does is not his fault, but that of the mark on his arm, or the Demon blood, or the Leviathan's running free through Castiel's body. He supposed he was no different.

Putting his phone on his night stand, the ringer all the way up so he could make sure to hear it if Castiel called. Then let his mind drift off to sleep.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Hayflat, I'm John Doogle, and this is my partner Casper Powers. We're from animal control, and we could like to ask you a few questions about these animal attacks." John said to the small, stout man that had opened the door in front of him. The man stared at him for a few seconds, seemingly lost.<p>

"I'm sorry. What?" Gary Hayflat asked, walking out of the door, and closing it behind him. "I thought they where simple animal attacks. Why would you need to question me?"

"Well Mr. Hayflat, we needed to know if you where witness to these attacks." John said, pulling out a file for show and seeming to consult it. "You did admit yourself to the hospital sometime last month for a bite marks, did you not?" He asked, looking the man in the eye.

"Well, yes I did." Gary said, calmly looking between John and Castiel. "But that was the last state over, I don't know what relevance that would have with the attacks happening here." He said, his voice steady, as he whipped his bald head with a rag from his pocket.

"The last state over you say?" Castiel asked, his voice authoritative. "When did this take place again?" He asked, pulling out a pen and notepad.

"Last month, around the twelfth I think." Gary answered, his eyes turning up in thought.

"But you where not admitted until the fifteenth, correct?" John asked, double checking his file, and looking up at the man.

"No, I didn't think much of it. After all, it was just a dog." Gary answered, staying close to his door. "But I decided to have it tested when it became infected."

"Did you notice any other symptoms after you where bitten?" Castiel asked, looking up at Gary's brown eyes. "Anything odd that you can't quite explain, weird urges. Maybe you noticed a change in appetite or heightened senses?" He suggested, watching Gary for his reaction. John's aggravation growing, but he remained calm at Castiel's sharp tone. This guy had no flair for subtlety. "Perhaps strange transformations, or urges to bite people. Tear open their chest maybe, and eat their hearts." He finished, John not believing what he was hearing.

"No, nothing like that." Gary answered, looking at John as if he'd grown another head. "Just some red and puffiness. That's all."

"I see." Castiel stated, jotting down notes in his notepad. "It's a pity Mr. Hayflat. Otherwise you may have been entitled to some form of compensation from the state." He said, closing his notes and walking away from the house.

"Have a good day." John said, with a congenial smile and following his companion. He waited until they where in the car, and driving away before asking. "What was that?" He asked Castiel, voice giving way to one of irritation.

"What was what?" Castiel asked, going over his notes. Not bothering to look up.

"Could you have made yourself more suspicious?" John asked, gesturing back to the house they had pulled away from. "You could have at least acted a bit more human."

"I believe I acted accordingly for an investigator. I kept it professional." Castiel defended himself. John rolling his eyes. "I hardly see the reason for pleasantries. I don't even see why we did not just kill him right there."

"Yeah, of course you don't." John muttered under his breath. They needed to know for certain, otherwise they where killing innocent people.

"Besides, if I did make myself suspicious." Castiel continued as if he hadn't heard John. "Then it will serve our purpose and bring him out in the open. Now that we have alerted him to our presence, he will attempt to get rid of us."

"You know witches don't need to be in a room with you to kill you, right?" John asked, he had no idea how much Castiel has worked with witches, and wasn't going to take any chances.

"Of course." Castiel responded simply. John waited for an explanation, but none came.

"You're wanting him to hex us." John clarified, looking at Castiel in disbelief. He was actually encouraging the witch to attack them. His suspicions proved true when Castiel gave him a self satisfied smile. "And now we wait." He said with a resigned sigh, driving back to the hotel.

* * *

><p>Dean was awoken by the sound of his phone ringing. Opening his eyes, he turned to look at it. He picked it up, and looked at the number. Seeing Castiel's name on the small screen, he answered it quickly, and sat up.<p>

"Cas." Dean said, clearing his throat when the first sound came out scratchy. "Cas, what's up man." He asked, leaning against the wall.

"We should be back in a few days I think." Castiel's gravely voice sounded over the phone. Dean couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. That was good news.

"Oh, yeah." Dean said, getting up. "Well, that's good news." He said, getting up to walk around his room. Then feeling like a teenager in high school, he sat back down again. "So you think you got it figured out? What is it?" He asked, keeping his voice even.

"Yes." Castiel answered slowly. "Now it's just a matter of waiting for it to come out into the open. Your father is insisting we have proof before we make the kill." He complained, Dean hearing how confused Castiel is. "Which is just ridiculous, I mean. We know who it is. Why not just kill him now? Before there is anymore casualties."

Dean laughed at his indigence. That was just like Castiel, do it, and do it quickly. Don't worry about being wrong. He liked that about Castiel, he was always certain, in everything he did. Never once second guessing himself.

"It's a human thing, Cas." Dean said, speaking calmly into the phone. "It's called doubt. He doesn't trust you as much as I do, and he wants to make sure he's not killing an innocent man." He explained his father's behavior.

"It's irrational." Was Castiel's reply.

"Human." Dean responded again, adding a sing-song quality to his voice. "Whatever, but what is it exactly. You haven't said."

"And I still won't." Castiel stated, he could hear the sounds of cars passing by him. Castiel had taken the phone outside to talk. "You need to focus on getting better."

"Come on, Cas." Dean pleaded. "I'm going crazy in here. I can help. Maybe I know a way to kills this thing. I'm worried whether you tell me or not."

"Do you doubt me?" Castiel asked, his voice sounding hurt.

"No." Was Dean's quick answer.

"Then you can trust me to take care of this." Castiel said. "You father will be just fine."

"It's not my father I'm worried about." Dean argued. "It's you, he has a tendency to take stupid risk that he could have avoided. You do too, but your's tends to be bigger, and he won't care as much as he would if it where me or Sam there."

"Don't worry Dean." Castiel calmed, voice becoming gentle. "I'll take care of myself." He said, before hanging up the phone.

Dean cursed as the phone went dead. Everything he said, was true. Sure, his father would help him hunt, and he wouldn't intentionally get him killed. But he also would not be as concerned about Castiel getting hurt as he had been when they went on hunts with him. He would be treated just like any other hunter, and with other hunters, he was more inclined to believe they could take care of themselves.

Castiel had said to trust him. He said that he could take care of it and himself. Dean didn't really doubt that, he'd watched Castiel take out more Demon's then he could count. He'd had his butt saved by the guy so often, he was sure he was followed. But for some reason, he worried. Maybe he was just letting his emotions get the better of him.

* * *

><p>John walked into the motel room with a bag of food in his hand, and closed the door. He looked around, noticing that Castiel was no where in sight. He threw the food he had picked up for him on his bed and sat down at the table. Pulling out his burger, and taking a bite out of it. He wondered where the guy had gone.<p>

They had interviewed the suspect yesterday, and so far, nothing. Castiel had seemed certain that he would strike soon. He should have known better then to trust the guys judgement. He was very surprised he had. He had a way of talking that made you listen to him. Telling John that he was certain that he would target them soon. John was beginning to doubt that, they had definitely given the witch plenty of time to react, to attack, anything. But still there was nothing.

He threw away his trash and laid down on his bed. Castiel had yet to make an appearance. Honestly, if he hadn't been with them for the past month, John would be inclined to believe he was the one doing these murders. With all the sneaking out he does. He understands that Castiel is a man, and he probably just needs some time to himself. But all the secret phone calls, and the leaving when John was asleep was something he wasn't likely to trust.

He let out a sigh, and closed his eyes. He needed some kind of rest. But he felt a slight tickling of his throat, just enough to annoy him. He stood up, intent on getting a drink of water when the sensation grew, turning painful. It felt like his throat was expanding, or something was caught in it. He couldn't breathe, and he was loosing his sight. He stood up, opening doors and turning over his sheets. But he couldn't keep it up, he couldn't find the hex bag.

Lucky for him, Castiel walked in. He seemed to be in the middle of saying something, when he looked at John. His eyes narrowed, and he grabbed his knife out of his pocket. He opened drawers, and tore open the phone. John was loosing consciousness, but he could still hear Castiel moving around, throwing things across the room. Looking for the hex bag.

John felt Castiel move past him to his bed, turning the sheets over and shaking them out, before taking his knife to the bed and tearing slashes in the mattress. John heard him shout in relief, holding the bag over his head, before retrieving a bowl from his bag. He threw in several herbs, and poured in a gloppy red substance. Throwing the hex bag in, he pulled out a match and lit the whole thing on fire.

John took a deep breath as the bowl went to blaze. The pain and tightness in his throat disappearing. He looked up to find Castiel watching him, checking for any other issues. His eyes concerned, but calculating. Moving from place to place quickly, making note of every possible injury.

"Thanks." John managed to choke out, his voice hoarse from the spell. "How did you know to look in the mattress?" He asked, looking at the offending item.

"Over the years I have seen many very creative hiding places for hex bags." Castiel explained, standing up and walking to the bed. Picking up his food and sniffing before throwing it back on the bed. "Do you have your bearings?" He asked, pocketing his knife and picking up a gun. Loading it, and placing several more bullets in his pockets for ammo. Then packing his own bag. Collecting everything that they had brought.

"Yeah, I think so." John said, standing up. "What are you doing?"

"While you where out, he had to sneak in to put the bag in here." Castiel stated, handing John a gun and several rounds of ammo himself. "But while he was sneaking in, no one was watching his house. So I took the opportunity to do my own breaking and entering." Castiel explained, opening his phone and showing John several incriminating pictures of Gary's house. Stuff that, if they had been allowed in, John would not have hesitated to shoot the guy on sight.

"Right." John said, walking away from Castiel's outstretched arm and to the door. "Let's go get this mother." He said, opening the door.

"Gary Hayflat doesn't have any children, and I heavily doubt he would have bore them himself." Castiel said, following him.

* * *

><p>They had to wait a few hours before they could attack. After all, barging into a man's house in broad daylight was a sure fire way to end up in a state wide man hunt. John would have liked to go in right away, but he apparently had to be the one to keep a cool head. Castiel didn't seem to understand the point of secrecy. He wanted to go in right away.<p>

John briefly thought about using his sniper rifle, but he wasn't carrying any bullets that would fit it. It would have certainly been faster, and he wouldn't have to sit in a car with a hunter eager to move. Because that was what John was seeing from Castiel now, a hunter ready to kill. His other side was starting to scare John, actually. He was very quiet, a lethal glint in his eyes. Stiffer then John had ever seen him, ready to strike at any time.

As night fell, they pulled the car from their parking space in the supermarket, and driving to the street Gary Hayflat lived. John parked the car two houses over, and walked around to the back. Castiel gave John a curt nod, and climbed quietly up the drain pipe to the second floor. John waited by the back door, gun cocked and ready. He counted down the seconds from two minutes, before slowly opening the door, wondering why it was unlocked.

That was, until the door slammed behind him and he was thrown to the wall.

Getting up, he saw the witch walking up to him. Glaring at him, and no more the normal, confused person he had seen two days ago. Now also sporting a burn on his arm that looked like some kind of lettering. John got up, and aimed his gun for his heart. He was then thrown against another wall, falling to the kitchen floor with a groan.

"You know, your friend isn't as smooth as he thinks he is." Gary said, stalking up to John again, and stopping at the archway separating the kitchen from the living room. "As soon as I saw him, I had him pegged as a hunter. Then those questions." He said in a mocking tone. "It's like he wanted me to see through the disguise." He said, making a grabbing motion with his hand, turning around and seeming to throw something at the window. John saw Castiel fly out the window, and heard a sickening crack. He only hoped it wasn't the neck. "Then of course there was this." He said, showing the mark on his arm. "Never would have pegged you two for knowing how to reverse the charm, and force me to show myself." He finished, John thinking back to all the stuff that Castiel had thrown into the bowl he'd burned the hex bag in.

John stood up again, and pointed his gun at the witch. He managed to get a shot off, but Gary had turned into a large Leonberger, the change in size making John miss his shot. The dog advanced on John, hackles raised, a deep growl coming from the beast. John took aim again, but the dog was swift for it's size, zigzagging across the room and he ran at John.

He jumped on John, taking him down with no effort, clawing and scratching at whatever it could get. John focusing most of his attention on the teeth of the beast, as it tried to get at his throat. He could feel the deep scratches the dog was carving out of his chest and arms, as he kept his hands on the throat of the monster. Knowing one bite could kill him or turn him, and not wanting either, he kept his gun firmly in between the teeth of the enormous beast.

He managed to get his legs under the canine, and kicked it off of him. Taking aim again, he steadied his gun at the dogs chest. But when he pulled the trigger, it jammed. Cursing, John threw the gun aside and grabbed his knife as the dog made another attack on him. Jumping in the air teeth bared and ready to sink into the first bit of John it could get. But when it hit John, and knocked him off his balance, it was a dead weight that was on top of him.

Pushing the monster off of him, he looked at it and saw a silver, well taken care of, short sword in-bedded in the back of the monster. He looked up, Castiel was sitting at the window, pale, bloody, and shaky, arm out like he'd just thrown something. 'Were did he hide that?' John wondered to himself, looking from the sword to Castiel.

John got up, taking stock of his own injuries, and firing a shot into the heart of the beast before walking to the door. Opening it, he went outside, to the window that Castiel was laying under, in a large bush. He grabbed Castiel's hand to help him up, hearing a grunt of pain when Castiel tried to stand. John remembered hearing a crack, and looked down at his legs. They where both bloody, you don't get knocked through a window with out getting cut to hell, but one was bent at an odd angle. Blood covering the entire leg from the knee down.

"Thanks again." John said, wrapping one of Castiel's arms around his shoulders, and walking him to the car.

"No." Castiel said, trying to turn around. "My blade."

"It's just a sword kid, you can find a new one." John said, coaxing Castiel to the car.

"No, I can't." Castiel argued. "It's special. You didn't need to shoot the skinwalker in the heart, it was already dead." He told him. "I need to get it back."

"Alright." John said, opening the car door, and throwing Castiel into the back seat. "You wait here, I'll go get your sword." He ordered, and walking away. He didn't understand what Castiel had meant by his ramblings. It was a sword, admittedly, a cool one, but just another weapon. No use getting attached to it.

He walked into the house, and grabbed the sword by the hilt. He pulled the thing out with a sickening squish. Feeling the power radiating through it, he took a good look at it. This is the first time he'd seen this thing, and he'd gone through their weaponry several times. He'd even gone through Castiel's bag a time or two, but never seen this. He obviously kept it with him where ever he went.

The point was very sharp, John having no doubt that given the right amount of strength, it could drive it's self in as deep as it did. But Castiel had thrown this from the window, after breaking his leg. With deadly accuracy at that. He didn't know anyone who could do that. A knife maybe, or a spear. For the strength of the sword though, it was very light, almost felt like he was holding nothing. It looked silver, but didn't feel or smell like it. John could see why Castiel was in no hurry to loose it.

He took one more look at the skinwalker, and left the house. Dropping the sword into the back seat with his companion and made way for the hospital the next town over. Glad that Castiel had taken the time to clean the room. Just in case they needed a quick get away. John had let him, figuring that Castiel's up tightness would lead him to make absolutely certain there was not a speck of DNA evidence left in the room.

He then realized that Castiel had been exceptionally quiet the past few minutes. He'd been thrown out of a window, and while John knew he was fine, he had no way to tell if Castiel was. He didn't know the guy enough to know if he was acting odd.

"So." John started, looking to the back mirror to find Castiel slightly dozing. He raised his voice slightly. "What's the deal with that sword, why is it so special?" He asked, startling Castiel awake.

"It's an Angel blade." Castiel answered easily. "It can kill anything, at any time. One of the only things, however, that can kill an Angel." He explained. "They wear them on their person at all times."

"Then how did you come by one?" John asked, needed to keep the conversation going.

"Killed an Angel." Castiel answered again, holding a hand to his head as they went over a bump. "Duh." He finished, wincing as they went over another bump.

'Oh, yeah.' John thought to himself. 'He's got a concussion.' He spent the rest of the ride, talking to Castiel about how his kids grew up, and asking Castiel how he'd met Sam and Dean. Wanting to know just what else they had done together before John came back. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity to get information out of him.

* * *

><p>Another chapter down, and still plenty more to go. I have to say, this is the longest piece of work I have ever done. I hope you all are liking it.<p>

As always, have a nice day.


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